


Point of Contact

by Ehtar



Series: Prompt Fills [15]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Cuddling & Snuggling, Curse Breaking, Curses, Developing Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, FrostIron - Freeform, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, POV Alternating, Prompt Fill, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Touch-Starved, Touching, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ehtar/pseuds/Ehtar
Summary: No good deed goes unpunished. While out and fulfilling his new role as a hero, Loki is struck with a curse. A curse whose trajectory seems to lead inevitably to him going completely mad. Worse, none of his research is bringing him any closer to finding a counter spell to remove it.The good news is that contact with another living being is effective in pushing the curse back, at least temporarily.The bad news is that themosteffective contact comes from Tony Stark.Note:Archive Warning for a brief battle scene in chapter 3.
Relationships: Loki & Tony Stark, Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Prompt Fills [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1311365
Comments: 149
Kudos: 477
Collections: FrostIron, LokixTony





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sparcina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/gifts).



> This has been a long, long time coming. This is a fill for a prompt I picked up from Sparcina about a year and a half ago. Yep, burnout is still a thing. 😅
> 
> Original Prompt: "Loki literally needs touch in order to stay alive, and while Tony doesn't understand why Loki seems so cuddly recently, he has zero hesitation about indulging the god's apparent needs. Fluff and cuteness all around."
> 
> The fluff and cute kick in eventually, and hopefully I've gotten this at least a little bit the way you had in mind, hon! 💕

“Brother, have you made any progress in your researches?”

Loki twisted in his chair, not bothering to straighten out of his hunch as he did so, and sent Thor such a poisonous glare that it actually got his steps to stumble. “Not as such,” he hissed, his tone containing all of the inherent warmth of an iceberg.

Thor winced, and continued his approach, though more cautiously than before. “I am sorry, Loki. Have you no hint at all?”

He turned back to the mass of open books spread across his table without answering, glaring at the useless text staring back up at him from the pages. This was only the latest lot of dozens upon dozens of tomes he had dug up, looking for any information on the spell he had been hit with, and _still_ there was nothing which seemed to match what he was experiencing. He’d exhausted his own collection, even those which he had left on Asgard rather than bringing to Midgard with him. While he considered his personal library of magical texts to be superior in every way to any other on Asgard, once he had combed through every one of his books, he’d cast his own net wider to the Royal Library. It had stung, having to admit that in the field of magic he might not have the answer he needed, and that there was the possibility that such answers would be in the hands of his father.

As much as it hurt his pride, it would have been worth it to lift whatever curse it was that had been put on him. But no. Even the lauded Royal Library was without answers. He was just as at a loss as before.

Worse, the curse was not waiting for Loki to unlock its secrets. Whatever it actually _was_ , it was proceeding apace, and its effects were beginning to seriously hamper his concentration.

Loki took a deep breath, clenching his fists, then forced himself to relax as he exhaled, ignoring as best he could the creeping, crawling feeling under his skin. It was a constant sensation which was slowly building. When it had begun it had been no more than a tickle. Now it was on the sharp cusp of pain, the sensation of insects crawling over his entire body, under the skin, tearing flesh with their every step. His research might not have told him what the curse was or how to remove it, but he was fairly certain that he knew its purpose.

It was meant to drive him mad.

Controlling his tone as best as he was able, he answered Thor’s question. “None. It would seem that we were the first to encounter that particular race and live to tell about it. There is nothing I have been able to find which even mentions them, let alone whatever bastardized form of magic they use.” He looked up at Thor, now standing at his shoulder, and gave him a wry smile. “I suppose we are to be congratulated as pioneers, brother, to have discovered and defeated a civilization at a stroke. Father would be proud.”

Thor snorted, scanning the open books curiously. “It was hardly the entire civilization we defeated. A mere dozen.”

“Which _may_ have been their entire populace, so far as we know.” He shrugged, and suppressed a shudder at the sensation that caused. “I’m certain that by the time the minstrels get ahold of the account, the number will swell to be about the same as an entire population.”

“Whatever they decide that to be,” Thor agreed. “An impressive number, regardless. I do not recognize any of these books.”

“Would you normally?”

“You were not the only one who developed a crick in his neck as a boy from study.”

“Yes, but I rather doubt it was in service to the same material.” Or for as long, as far as Loki could remember. They had spent plenty of time sparring, ‘training as warriors’ as boys, but Loki’s time was always more heavily skewed in the direction of scholarly study than Thor’s. But that was neither here nor there. “There is no reason you _should_ recognize these,” he sighed. “They are all volumes I have managed to borrow from around the Realms. I had hoped a differing perspective might shed some light on the matter.”

Thor gave him a blank look. “You borrowed these?”

“ _Yes_ , Thor,” he hissed, patience straining. “There are those scattered across the cosmos who consider me good enough of a friend to lend their resources in times of need.”

“But not their personal aid?”

“Apparently not _that_ good of a friend.”

Thor’s face took on a look which Loki recognized, and did not appreciate. Once he might have, back before all the family secrets had come to light, but which now only made his guts twist, matching the sensations under his skin. Pity, and protectiveness. Things he’d seen in his older brother since their youngest days, and which warmed him to a degree, knowing that Thor still loved him, and still cared enough to want to protect him. But now it was soured by events only recently passed, and only made him want to recoil.

“How are you feeling, Loki?”

Insects crawled under his skin. Night and day without pause, no inch of him exempt from the foul sensation. Torso, legs, arms, the palms of his hands, between his toes, all across his face and coating his tongue, _nothing_ was safe from it. He had foregone sleep for the last two nights, unable to ignore the slowly building sensation long enough to pass into unconsciousness, so his one avenue of escape was cut off, even there. He was slowly going mad, he was tired, he was frustrated for a cure at every turn, and so far as he could see, there was no hope at all for a cure. Other than death.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a grimace. “If I did not, then who would watch over you and your idiot friends? You would all be dead in a month without me to rescue you from your own mishaps.”

“And when you say ‘my friends,’ do you mean the Warriors Three, or the Avengers?”

“Both.”

Thor smirked. “You know the Avengers are your friends as well, Loki. Truly,” he insisted at Loki’s incredulous snort. “They have been asking after you ever since we returned and you have not left your rooms. They’re concerned for you and only wish you well.”

Loki considered it a boon that Thor hadn’t tried to peg the Warriors Three as his friends as well. Any sort of comradery they might once have shared, however ill fitting, had long ago evaporated. At best the Warriors considered him a threat-in-waiting, and he knew that they checked on him regularly through Heimdall. The Avengers, while many of them were of a suspicious nature, were at least not quite so openly hostile to him. One or two were even friendly, which was more than he could have reasonably expected.

“Stark, especially, has been anxious to know of your condition.”

Loki went still, then turned his face away from Thor, hoping his brother hadn’t seen anything slip through into his expression. “Has he?”

“Yes, of course. I know you may find it difficult, brother, but I believe you may count Tony Stark as a friend. You may not have expected it from those who once fought against you, but I think you have made a true friend in Stark.”

Upon reflection, going utterly mad and rending his own flesh down to the bone might be preferable to listening to Thor talk about how fond Anthony Stark was of him.

Loki hadn’t expected anything in the way of soft feelings toward him from the humans. He had attempted to take over their planet, after all, and fought directly with them in battle. It would only be natural for them to so mistrust him as to send him packing back to Asgard, to whatever shameful duties the Allfather might devise for him. What Thor got utterly wrong was how unaware Loki was of the shifting attitudes in the team. He was hyperaware of the changing moods around him. The slowly relaxing Dr. Banner and Steve Rogers, the outwardly accepting but still suspicious Natasha, the sullenly resentful Clint… But Anthony Stark had changed in his attitudes towards him the most out of anyone. He bantered with Loki – accidentally at first, it was true, but eventually settling into something more playful. He began seeking out Loki’s company, rather than just tolerating it. He asked intelligent questions about whatever interested him – which seemed to be everything.

Loki was perfectly aware of just how much of a friend the inventor and mechanic had become. In Anthony Stark he’d come to recognize a certain similarity in spirit – a love of mischief and a drive to learn more, to always improve. Part of that may have been due to their respective histories, which also, unfortunately, held a number of similarities.

It had come as something of a shock to find someone he felt he shared so much with among _humans_. It had come as even more of a shock when they had gradually become friends in actuality, not just potential.

He’d nearly had a heart attack when he realized his feelings went deeper than just friendship.

It was something which had taken some time to fully accept, and he was determined to never allow anyone else to ever find out.

“Well, you may tell him to stop being an idiot,” he told Thor, shoving the errant emotions into the back of his mind where they belonged. “This is hardly the first time I have been cursed, it is only a matter of time before I solve this riddle like every other.”

“Of course…” When Loki shot him a look, Thor put on a bright smile. “Of course!” He said with much more conviction. “I have seen you overcome the magics of some of the most powerful mages in the Realms. I have every faith that you will also best this spell!” And Thor clapped him heartily on the shoulder.

Loki gasped, his world tilting.

Immediately Thor removed his hand, his face a mask of concern. “I’m sorry, Loki! Are you in very much pai—?”

“Shut up, you fool,” Loki snarled, grabbing at Thor’s wrist. “And do that again!”

Thor resisted for a moment when Loki tugged at him, bringing his hand back to his shoulder, but eventually relaxed enough so his palm came to rest against Loki’s arm.

Even with having an idea of what to expect, his breath still caught. From the moment and point of contact, the crawling _itch_ which had been slowly building up over the last week vanished all at once. It was only where Thor’s hand touched, but it was the first time in all of that week where _any_ part of him had known any relief. If he hadn’t already been sitting, Loki’s knees would have buckled. As it was, he felt his eyes sting with relieved tears.

His eyes slipped closed, and he breathed a moment, enjoying the small break from his week-long torture, resisting the urge to rub Thor’s hand over himself in hopes of banishing the sensation entirely. It only took a minute for him to realize that he wouldn’t need to do that. The longer Thor’s hand remained, the more the area that no longer itched spread.

 _Norns_ , it was a relief.

“Brother…?”

Loki blinked back to reality and found Thor staring at him with a bewildered, concerned expression. He was no longer trying to retrieve his hand – he wouldn’t get it back, anyway – but he was obviously lost on what was happening.

Straightening, but not releasing Thor’s hand, Loki tried to parse out exactly what was happening.

“It would appear that I’ve been looking in the wrong direction all this time for a cure,” he said carefully. “It seems that physical contact is at least partially effective in driving it back.” Experimentally, Loki lifted Thor’s hand, and for a few glorious seconds the itch stayed away from the area Thor’s touch had cleared. But then it crept back in, and its brief absence only made its return seem all the worse.

“Temporarily, at least,” he amended, replacing Thor’s compliant hand.

Thor’s face lit like a beacon. “Loki, this is wonderful! Temporary or not, it’s a step towards finding a counter spell!”

“Yes…” He stared at Thor’s hand, which was already driving the itch further and further away. A reprieve from the incessant sensation was already clearing his mind, making it easier to think, and he was considering what to do with this new information.

“I’ll need to run some experiments,” he decided. “Thor, you’re not busy for the next couple of hours are you?”

In the end, a couple hours of exhaustive experimenting only revealed a few key points about their discovery worth noting.

One, that the sensation of itching disappeared wherever Loki happened to be touched. Two, it didn’t appear to matter if it was Loki or Thor who initiated contact, the point of contact was still affected. Three, the longer contact was maintained, the wider the affected area grew, and the longer it lasted after contact was broken. Four, skin to skin contact was more effective than through layers, and contact via a shared object – such as both of them holding the same book but not actually touching – wasn’t effective at all. And five, no matter how long contact was maintained, Thor felt no ill effects, so the curse did not appear to be transferring from one to the other.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was considerably more than he’d managed to glean in a week’s worth of study. Now there was some hope, at least, and with the occasional break in the madness-inducing itch, he might be able to concentrate on _finding_ the proper counter spell. Or, Norns willing, _leave his room._

Of course, he couldn’t spend his entire time holding hands with Thor. If he were to venture out, he would have to see if this small measure of abatement were effective with everyone, or only Thor.

—•—

When Loki finally decided to come out of hiding from his rooms, Tony was more relieved than he would care to admit. Upon returning from their mission in outer space, Loki was the only one of the group to not show his face in the Welcome Back party he’d put together. Thor, Valkyrie, Korg, they’d all turned up, but not the mage. When Thor was asked about it, they’d only been told that Loki had taken some sort of injury during battle and was taking some time to recover before rejoining everyone.

Which… yeah, Tony could see why he would want to do that. It was no fun hanging out with friends – or whatever Loki considered them – while sporting an injury. Wanting to wait until you were done limping was perfectly logical and reasonable.

It was just that Thor never let them in on what the injury _was_ , or even how _bad_ it was. Just bad enough to make him hole up in his rooms for days. And that was concerning enough, in Tony’s opinion. Asgardians were _tough_. Anything which was so bad that it put Loki out of commission probably would have killed anyone else several times over. And while Loki himself was known for being reclusive, injuries were never something which had warranted isolation before. It was really only Thor’s calmness on the matter, and knowing that Loki _would not_ appreciate an intrusion which kept Tony from checking on the mage. Loki was fine, and he would come out when he was ready to.

Except that ‘when he was ready’ kept getting further and further away, and after a few days even Thor was starting to look worried. No one was saying anything, and Tony was left to imagine all sorts of scenarios which might explain it.

He had a good imagination. The trouble was when it would run away from him with this sort of thing, and he had very little in the way of actual facts to work with.

He hadn’t realized just how much his imagination had been running away with him until the mage walked into the kitchen while he was making a cup of coffee. No warning, no fanfare, just suddenly there he was and Tony was having a mild heart attack.

Loki probably meant to say something. He had the kind of self-satisfied expression he usually wore right before he said something really snarky.

Whatever he meant to say, though, was cut off by having a very relieved Tony Stark wrapping him up in a bear hug.

“Oh man, it is good to see you again, Reindeer Games,” he said, words a little muffled into Loki’s shoulder. “I was beginning to think Thor had traded you for some sort of space puppy and was refusing to admit it.”

At first Loki stiffened under the embrace – hardly a surprise – but he relaxed again surprisingly quickly. At Tony’s comment he let out a huff. “He could do much better than a mere animal if he had _me_ as a bartering chip, no matter how exclusive the breed.”

Tony chuckled, amazed he hadn’t been shaken off yet, but not about to complain. After a week of worry it was amazingly nice to have an immediate, physical reassurance that Loki was alright. He was solid and warm, every one of Tony’s senses filled with him as confirmation that he was there. Even just feeling him breathe, that was enough to make the tension in Tony’s shoulders slowly unwind, and the hug became less of a tackle-grab and more of a genuine embrace.

He knew better than to stay too long, though. Accepting as he was for the moment, Loki’s patience was bound to run out, and when it did, Tony _would_ be shaken off, and probably not gently. So he pulled back, unwrapping the Asgardian.

Loki must still have been not fully recovered, though. He swayed forward as Tony pulled away, like he was having trouble keeping his balance without the support.

“Whoa, hey,” he said, keeping a cautionary grip on Loki’s forearms. “You sure you’re ready to be up and about? You’re lookin’ a little wobbly in the legs, Bambi.”

Loki blinked, looking mildly dazed, which only made Tony hold on tighter. “Well, that’s one question answered,” he said. Before Tony could question the non-sequitur, he went on after a little shake of his head. “I can assure you that I am perfectly alright. Whatever horror stories my brother had told you of my indisposition, I can guarantee they’ve been exaggerated. Along with the battle which caused it,” he added.

“Really?” Tony grinned at him. “Even the part where you saved the mission by blasting back the entire enemy force fifty feet with your magic, giving you time to maneuver?”

Loki’s brows went up in surprise, but he smiled. “Well. Maybe not _entirely_ exaggerated.”

“Yeah, that’s what I though.” He grinned, and took advantage of the fact that somehow Loki _still_ hadn’t shaken him off to take a more detailed stock of how he looked.

He was pale, but Loki was always pretty pale. It was hard to tell if he looked paler than normal or if it was an effect of the dark circles under his eyes. Tony was a bit of a dyed in the wool expert on sleep deprivation, and it looked as though Loki had gone a day or two without any sleep at all. Save for the bags, he looked well enough – he was as well put together as ever, and his eyes were only a little too bright, not quite at manic levels of deprivation. And besides the wobble he didn’t _feel_ particularly weak – though that might have more to do with the fact that Asgardians were built like brick buildings. What _would_ a weak Asgardian feel like?

“Well, you don’t _look_ like you’re about to fall over…”

Loki snorted, a bit more of his usual fire coming back into his face. “There’s no danger of my fainting save perhaps from hunger. I haven’t had a decent meal since we got back from that interminable mission.”

“Ah, in that case, we’d better just cook the kitchen. I’ve seen Asgardian appetites when you’re _not_ starving.” He finally let go of Loki to turn to the cupboards and start riffling through what they had, which was a lot, given the Avengers Tower was meant to feed more than a dozen people at any given point. “Well, we’ve got the tried and true standbys with cereal, pancake mix or just plain cake mix, since it’s still early and technically breakfast hour. There’s also something like six dozen eggs in the fridge, and sausage, bacon, or frozen waffles if you like those. We’ve got bagels and English muffins… we could just throw it all in a bowl and call it breakfast casserole – like a breakfast burrito but without the convenience factor. Or we could do sandwiches, soups or stews if you’re more in a mood for ‘lunch’ type stuff. Or, you know what? We should probably just start at one end and work through and entire day’s timeline of food, breakfast all the way to after-dinner dessert. What d’you think?”

The mage hadn’t moved from his spot, but was watching as Tony threw open every cupboard in turn, rubbing absently at one forearm. He gave Tony a small, soft smile, which sent a little shot of warmth through Tony, startling him.

“I think that so long as _you_ are not the one doing the cooking, a very large breakfast sounds just the thing.”

“Excellent! And maybe make enough for two? I promise not to help.”

“That will depend entirely upon how quickly you can get some away from me,” he said primly, moving into the kitchen.

“Oh, c’mon. No love for the genius who suggested the banquet in the first place?”

“It hardly takes a genius to think of a banquet, Stark.”

“Then why didn’t you think of it?”

Loki only scoffed at him as he began pulling ingredients and mixing bowls out of cupboards. Tony didn’t mind the evasion. It was just nice to have him back on his feet and where Tony could tease him as much as he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up sometime tomorrow! 💕
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> You can find me on  
> Tumblr: [@ehtarwrites](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@ehtarwrites](https://twitter.com/ehtarwrites)  
> Discord: @ehtarwrites#4962 
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things, hmu! ♥


	2. Chapter 2

It might have just been Tony’s imagination, but it seemed like Loki had gotten a lot more… friendly since he got back from that mission in space.

Of course, as had been proven only very recently, Tony had an active – nay, _over-_ active imagination at times, prone to spinning off on its own with no real regard for either him or reality. But this time he _did_ have direct input from reality, and reality only seemed to be confirming his thoughts.

In this case, having reality confirm what he would normally classify as wishful thinking was a little disturbing.

Normally, Loki was standoffish. Aloof, even. He reminded Tony of a cat on more than one occasion with his behavior, how he would only deign to interact when _he_ was ready, his watchfulness, the slow way he would relax into a situation. He hadn’t caught Loki lolling around in any patches of sunlight yet, but the general impression remained. Tony had been rather proud of the fact that they seemed to be breaking through that, and getting to a more comfortable place where they could hang out without feeling like they were sparring the entire time. It might have been a low bar, but it was still progress! And given where they’d started, it was pretty fantastic progress.

Ignoring the first time they had all met – something they _all_ strove to do – when Loki had been more or less _presented_ as a new team member by Thor, he’d tried to act like a shadow. Around, but uninvolved. He’d watch and listen to what was happening, but very rarely give an opinion unless asked, and when it came to battles he would often go his own way, with little to no regard for the game plan. Even at the time Tony had felt a little stir of appreciation to have a devil-may-care maverick on the team… underneath the many layers of annoyance as the rest of the team flipped their shit. But eventually he did start settling down, and if he wasn’t exactly _warming up_ , he was at least less passively hostile. Holding a conversation felt less like a battle every single time, Loki stopped looking at them all like they were insects, and the rest of the team started to relax. It began to look as though they might be able to function as a team, even with an ex-villain in the mix.

Honestly, that would have been enough, as far as Tony was concerned. The whole idea of a team comprised of the types and personalities they all were had always felt a little suspect. Laudable in its intentions, sure, but suspect in its predictability. The fact that the Avengers were working as well as they did seemed just shy of a miracle, without adding the villain which had brought them all together into the mix as their new bestie.

They weren’t tearing each other apart. They were actually functioning semi-well as a unit. It was far and away more than Tony would have reasonably expected, but he was very grateful.

Then… well, he and Loki just kept… ending up in the same places. Apparently more than anyone else on the team, Tony’s routine matched Loki’s the most closely, so they kept running into each other. Eventually, once tensions began lowering all round, they talked a bit whenever they shared rooms. Then they talked a bit more. Biting sarcasm was replaced with playful snark. The subjects they talked about broadened. They started extending the amount of time they needed to spend in those rooms, just so they could continue their conversations. They started seeking one another out, just to discuss some new thing, some new invention or new spell they wanted to share with one another.

It had been pretty gradual, but in the end Tony found himself actively seeking out the guy who’d once thrown him out of a window, just for the sake of hanging out with him. On the list of weird things which had happened in his life, it probably didn’t rate very high, but he was still putting it on the list as notable. Especially in light of the fact that he found himself _liking_ the guy.

Loki was smart; really, _really_ smart. He was able to keep up with what Tony was talking about even when he was going full speed – which was rare enough. More than that, though, he was able to give creative feedback to whatever Tony decided to yammer about. And when Loki decided to go off on his own tangents, Tony found himself having to mentally jog in order to keep up. Loki wasn’t just smart, he was _intelligent_ , with an intellect which twisted and turned in fascinating ways.

Just as sharp as his intelligence was his humor. There had been a few times where during a conversation, Loki would make some sort of cutting remark, and it would actually take Tony a minute to catch it. He liked to make passing digs cloaked as compliments or simply as offhand comments. After learning a little of his history – and meeting a few of Thor’s friends from home – he was reasonably sure this was how Loki had kept himself sane growing up. Little insults to the people who seemed to delight in belittling him, most of them probably going right over their heads. But Tony caught them, got better at catching them, and Loki only seemed more and more delighted by that.

As they spent more and more time together, Loki actually got comfortable enough to tell him stories about Asgard. They were considerably different from the ones Thor told, despite there being quite a bit of overlap. Thor’s stories all revolved around battles, carousing with his friends and the lessons imparted on him by the Allfather. Loki’s stories, while all being set in the same place and involving the same people or even the same situations, were like photo negatives. The same basic shapes but a completely different picture. The queen, Frigga, featured more prominently in Loki’s versions, as did histories and cultural details of the various peoples they were in contact with, and a whole lot more in the way of pranks and plays rather than sparring. He never went into any detail over some of his most recent history, understandably enough. Nothing to do with New York or New Mexico, nor anything to do with the events leading up to either of those. Tony never asked. It wasn’t _really_ his business, and asking would potentially strain the friendship they’d somehow managed to forge.

And Tony didn’t _want_ to lose that friendship. He enjoyed his time hanging out with the mage, and rather thought that he enjoyed Tony’s company as well.

Whether he did or ever could enjoy it _as_ _much_ as Tony was a topic of debate. A debate which Tony would never have with anyone but himself, because there was no way he was telling anyone that he might have actually begun to fall for Loki.

So of course, _of fucking course_ he would go and get himself injured enough to be laid up for a week almost the minute Tony had come to that little self-realization. And then, after winding up his anxiety to a high pitch, he would come out and start being all… _touchy_.

Being touchy wasn’t Loki’s usual shtick. If anything it was much more Tony’s thing, getting into personal spaces, getting hands on with whatever he was working on and not noticing when contact happened with anyone who was too close. Also deliberate touching, hands on shoulders, elbow nudges, casual leans into another person… actually, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he’d been doing all of that with Loki for weeks. A lot more than he had been doing with anyone else. Another sign which should have clued him into his own feelings a long time ago.

Loki hadn’t seemed to mind Tony being kinda tactile. He was tolerant, at least. He never threatened to take off Tony’s hands for touching him – or his head.

And now it was Loki who was going out of his way to ‘accidentally’ come into contact, or who was casually touching all over the place, when before he’d kept his hands strictly to himself.

To be fair, Tony had probably missed when it happened the first couple of times. While cooking breakfast that first morning there would have been plenty of opportunity for casual touches to happen, and Tony wouldn’t necessarily have noticed it. They were working together in a close space, after all, passing things back and forth, and touches were likely to happen. It wouldn’t have immediately occurred that it was _Loki_ and that touching was Not Normal.

Since then, though, it had only grown more and more obvious.

He and Loki had spent plenty of time together before, but now it seemed like every time Tony turned around, there he was. And where he was, there was a reason for Loki to touch. When the mage sought him out in his workshop, he would put a steadying hand on Tony in order to lean in and see what Tony was working on more closely. When coming up behind him, a warm palm would be pressed into the small of his back or between his shoulder blades, like a warning that he was there. When they sat together at benches, one or the other of them showing off their latest project, Loki sat so close that their thighs ended up pressed together. He would sometimes lay a hand on him and apparently forget that it was there entirely, and it would remain until one or other of them had to get up.

It was weird behavior for him, but Tony wasn’t complaining. He’d thought about having Loki’s hands on him, and he had no complaints about those little fantasies coming to life. After the first bout of confusion, Loki’s new penchant for being hands-on only encouraged Tony to be even more so himself. To be honest, he _indulged_ in the allowances Loki was making, returning every stray caress with one of his own.

After a while, he decided to experiment, to see how far this new allowance on personal boundaries went.

It had been several days since Loki had reemerged. More than enough time, Tony would have thought, to finish up the last of his recovery and look a little less shattered every day. So it was a little alarming to see that not only was that not happening, but Loki was looking more tired every day. Whatever else was going on with his health, he obviously wasn’t getting enough sleep, and he just seemed super stressed and tense in general.

Tony might not be able to do much about his sleep or his health in general – especially when Loki refused to talk about either, despite prodding – he was pretty certain he could help alleviate some of the tension.

One morning, he found Loki already up and camped out on a couch with a book, right next to the spot Tony normally sat when eating his breakfast. Tony sat down, arranging his food on the little table, leaned back, and reached over to thread his fingers into Loki’s hair, sipping at his coffee.

Loki stiffened in his seat immediately, and though Tony wasn’t looking at him, he was pretty sure he heard a startled little intake of breath. He didn’t pull away, though, or make any sort of protest, so after a moment’s pause, Tony carded his fingers through the long black hair, and then carefully returned his hand back up to his scalp to repeat the move. Slowly, Loki began to relax, and when Tony risked a look out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Loki’s eyes had drooped to almost closed, any pretense that he was reading the book in his hands completely gone. Tony smiled, rather proud of himself.

A couple of minutes later, and Tony buried his hand all the way beneath Loki’s hair, his palm resting at the base of his neck. He let it sit a moment, the heat of his hand warming Loki’s skin, and then _squeezed_.

He’d thought Loki resembled a cat before. If it were possible, Tony was certain Loki would have started purring.

Tony rolled his fingers, using all the strength he’d gained in them over the years to his advantage, working to unlock the tensed muscles on either side of Loki’s spine. When he found one particular knot at the top of Loki’s right shoulder, and focused there with pressure and circles, the mage tilted his head in the opposite direction in order to give him better access.

A successful experiment, if he said so himself.

Eventually the knots in Loki’s neck were all a little looser, and he felt less like a violin string. But there was plenty more Tony could feel was still tense, muscles he couldn’t get to from his current angle or with only one hand…

He put his coffee down, and tapped Loki on the back of the neck to rouse him. “Hey, Bambi. Shift round, would ya?”

Loki blinked his eyes open, deep into a massage stupor, and looked round at him. His expression became no less confused as Tony motioned that he should turn so his back was to Tony. “Why?”

“Well, if you want both of these magic hands, you’re going to have to turn a little bit.” He held up his hands and flexed his fingers a little to demonstrate.

Loki eyed him and his hands, gaze clearing slightly. “That’s rather presumptive of you.”

“What, that I have ‘magic hands’?”

“That I would want them badly enough to move out of a very confortable position.”

Tony snorted at the pathetic attempt at aloofness. “Given that you were practically a purring puddle a few seconds ago, I think it’s a pretty safe assumption that you would think having two would be better than having one. It’s also fairly safe, I think, to say that it would warrant a few inches to get it.”

He didn’t answer that directly, but stared at Tony a while longer, some sort of calculation going on behind his eyes. Apparently reaching a conclusion, he heaved a sigh, closed the book he’d not been reading for the last five minutes and put it on the table next to Tony’s cooling breakfast. Then he turned so that Tony was faced with a lean back and long hair.

Without the danger of Loki seeing him, Tony grinned triumphantly, then set to work before the mage could change his mind.

He’d tensed again a little, either from Tony asking him to turn or from the act itself. Thankfully most of the work he’d done on his neck was still there and hadn’t been lost. Using both hands, Tony swept his fingers over Loki’s neck, from the base of his skull to the tops of his shoulders, checking if any of the knots he’d just kicked out had returned. None had, so he moved on to the shoulders, which certainly _did_ have knots.

When they’d gone on long enough for Loki to have relaxed again, Tony risked talking. “Remind me to design you a better desk and chair for your rooms.”

The mage sounded a little foggy when he asked, “And why should you do that?”

“Doesn’t take a genius mechanic to figure out that whatever setup you’ve got at the moment is doing you zero favors.” The emphasize the point, Tony ran a thumb along the inner edge of a shoulder blade, where a lot of Loki’s knots seemed to enjoy congregating. Loki hissed, but pressed back into the touch. “Whatever sort of arrangement you have right now has got a lot to answer for, and I am more than willing to design you a made-to-measure work station for all of your witchy needs. So long as it means your muscles stop pretending to be marbles.”

Anything Loki might have been about to say was lost as his words turned into a grunt as Tony found one of those marbles and pressed. As Tony worked between his shoulder blades, Loki let out a slow litany of borderline obscene noises of pleasure and encouragement. Tony just grinned and concentrated on the feel of flesh under his hands, glad to be allowed to touch, to take away some of the tension he’d seen building in the mage. For the first time in two weeks, he finally felt as though he were _helping_.

Several minutes went by, Tony gradually falling into a semi-meditative state, his hands seeking, finding and working the trouble areas in Loki’s back without the need for much conscious guidance. Loki relaxed more and more under his hands, his vocalizations growing quieter but more pleased as Tony worked. More than once, especially when the fabric of Loki’s shirt would roll, he caught himself wishing the clothes were gone. It would be so much simpler without them in the way, and it would be nice to actually _feel_ the warmth of Loki against his palms.

“You have my permission… to do whatever you want with my furniture,” Loki murmured, voice thick and heavy. “So long as you keep doing this…”

Tony smiled at the back of Loki’s head, proud of himself. “Like the magic hands, then?”

“Mm… very much…” The words, if anything, were becoming heavier, more drawled than spoken, like the mage was falling asleep. The impression was only reinforced when he mumbled, barely audible, “… love your touch…”

It made him pause for a second, stuttering to a halt in mid-stroke before continuing, going on before Loki could notice, before he could wake up enough to realize what he’d said and make an embarrassed retreat. 

It didn’t mean anything, he told himself. Loki was more than halfway to being passed out and drooling when he’d said it, so the usual careful control over his words would have been compromised. Drowsy and massage drunk, it would make sense that things like ‘I find this current arrangement to be pleasant and will bargain its continuance for allowing you access into my private rooms so you may do whatever experiments you have in mind for my furniture’ got boiled down to ‘you touch good, keep doing that.’

Still… It was nice to imagine, at least, that Loki meant it the way it sounded, that he enjoyed not just what was being done to him, but _who_ was doing it. That he was relaxing not just because of Tony’s hands working on him, but because Loki trusted him, because he found spending time in Tony’s company to be relaxing in itself.

Nice, but still a fantasy.

Unfortunately, Tony’s imagination was only encouraged as the days went on and Loki, if anything, got more and more touchy. That much at least _wasn’t_ his imagination. Loki _was_ more open to touch, _initiated_ much more on his own and, if Tony was seeing things clearly enough to be trusted, he was _only_ doing it with Tony.

Casual touching over the next week or so became even more casual, and more frequent. Any sort of awkwardness which might have remained faded out of Loki. Before, no matter how casual he’d tried to make up any touching _seem_ , he was always a little wary, a little nervous, like he was uncertain if Tony would allow it or if he would shake the mage off for taking the liberty. After the back rubs, that seemed to break down entirely. He was less… _shy_ about initiating touches now. Rather than feeling hesitant, it just felt right that they would touch so often. Loki even took to leaning into Tony when they were sitting next to one another, pressing not only their thighs together, but arms and shoulders as well. Tony could swear that Loki was only a step away from actually resting his head on his shoulder.

Tony didn’t mind. He enjoyed Loki’s company. He enjoyed being able to touch. He was happy Loki trusted him and was comfortable enough with him to do it. It was fine.

He felt like he was going insane.

They never talked about this increased intimacy of touch. It was never acknowledged verbally, or even alluded to. It was just… a thing that was happening. Tony wasn’t one for being shy about bringing up awkward subjects, but in this case he did hesitate. At first because he was certain that if he brought it up with Loki directly, he would immediately back off and like hell was Tony going to be the reason for that. Now it was a case of just making things awkward again, or even more so than before by pointing out what had been happening naturally. Which… fine. He was pretty okay at reading nonverbal cues from people. Well enough to have survived as the head of Stark Industries as long as he had, let alone as Iron Man or just in everyday life. He could get behind just taking the nonverbal cues and running with them. Cautiously.

Except that Loki was Asgardian. And Asgardians, from Tony’s slightly restricted sampling, assuming anything about how they functioned – especially interpersonally – was likely to be A Mistake. Worse, from what he could tell, Loki was an even further departure from any norm he might have figured out from overserving anyone else.

It if had been anyone else, Tony would have taken it as encouragement, as an unexpected, borderline unbelievable sign that his own unspoken wants were being reciprocated…

One day, Tony actually beat Loki to being up and awake. They’d developed something of a routine for sharing coffee in the mornings, of waking up together quietly of over banter of what the rest of the day would bring. That morning he was the first one to get to the common areas. By the time the coffee was made and poured, he was _still_ the only one there. Rather than let the coffee go cold, Tony picked them both up and made his way to Loki’s floor.

He’d been in Loki’s rooms before. Obviously, since he’d built the building and been in _every_ room, but he’d been in these since they had become _Loki’s_ rooms, so he didn’t think much of tracking the mage down to his workroom. A few weeks ago it would have been classified as a ‘No’ kind of idea, but now… It just didn’t seem like that big of a deal.

Loki looked up when Tony tapped on the threshold, blinking at him with a puzzled expression. “Stark…?” He glanced at the clock on the wall, expression clearing slowly as he realized the hour.

“Sure is,” he said, walking into the room. He’d marveled the first time he’d been allowed entry into Loki’s work space, examining everything with as much scrutiny as could be managed without actually picking anything up. Considering the way a lot of the objects in Loki’s rooms glowed and sparked – and not just with electricity – it was probably safest to keep his hands to himself. Mostly he was impressed with the kind of organized chaos that went on in the room, similar to Tony’s workshop. He liked to think that was another reason why they were comfortable with one another.

“Figured you were taking your time getting prettied up this morning, so brought the caffeine to you.”

He was still blinking a little at Tony as he came over and put the steaming mug down on the clearest, safest bit of table he could find. Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, Tony wondered if he’d even actually gone to sleep the night before. He stared at the cup for a second, as though still processing what it was. “Is your overactive protective instinct gotten so out of control that you feel the need to coddle me?”

Tony snorted at him. “As if you would ever allow _coddling_. Backup on occasions, and someone to patch you back together when you do something stupid. Besides,” he added, giving him a coy look as he leaned against the table, “would you stop me if I were?”

The slightly glazed look in Loki’s eye cleared up a little, a small smile tilting his mouth, but he didn’t answer. Instead he picked up his coffee and took a long sip, eyes closing as he hummed appreciatively.

Tony’s heart fluttered stupidly. It was just coffee, just a guy who looked about dead on his feet – or seat, in this case – enjoying a hot bit of caffeine. But still, it was coffee _he_ had made, and as he’d learned over the last couple of weeks, Loki was incredibly particular about how he took his. It had taken several tries to even get to the point where Loki would drink what he made, let alone deign look as though he enjoyed it. Getting an expression that made it look as though Loki had found salvation was… well, it was something.

He pushed it down, aside, the way he’d been pushing every little flutter and hope away since the Revengers had gotten back to Earth, and concentrated on what he had _now_. What was real and tangible. “So,” he nodded towards the mess of papers and vials, bits of plants and other esoteric bric-a-brac littering the table. “What’re you working on this fine morning?”

Loki’s eyes blinked open and he looked over at his work, as though he’d forgotten the answer and needed the visual reminder of what he’d been doing. As he was looking it over, he licked his lips, presumably cleaning away the taste of coffee.

Tony was going to have a damned heart attack.

“I’m working on some treatments to various maladies,” he said, sounding a little more relaxed. “From across the Realms and which have thus far have only paltry treatments, if any at all.”

“Really?” Tony was genuinely surprised, and intrigued. “I didn’t know you had any interest in medicine.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Stark.”

“I know. But I’m working on it. For example,” he waved at the gathered supplies, “how do you intend to treat anything with all of this? I thought Asgard had developed beyond the need for soothing teas which don’t actually do very much.”

Loki hummed, taking another sip of his coffee before he answered. As he did, he shifted in his seat, stretching his back, rolling his shoulders, and in the process leaned ever so slightly towards Tony.

He wondered if Loki even realized he was doing it. It was subtle, and if it was done to look like it were an accident or a coincidence that he happened to be a little closer to him, then it was done very smoothly.

“Magical ailments, Stark,” he was saying, bringing Tony back to reality. “While rare, they do exist, and despite the advanced medicine in Asgard, this is a branch which is woefully underdeveloped.”

“Why’s that? Seems lie the kind of specialization which Asgard would be all over.”

Loki’s face stiffened for a moment before he sent Tony a brittle kind of smile. “Yes, one would assume so, wouldn’t one? Asgard being what you humans would consider a blending of science and magic, it would be logical that they would work together, share space for the betterment of the people. Unfortunately, the two existing together does not automatically mean they have an equal, or even cooperative relationship. Magic, at least certain kinds and in particular contexts, does not enjoy such a standing. It is often stigmatized, and those who have been weak or unfortunate enough to contract such maladies are often… not _neglected_ , but seen as less critical to be treated.” Loki shifted again, his face a little pinched as he recalled the attitudes of his own people. When he settled and was even nearer to Tony, his forearm and elbow nearly coming into contact with Tony’s hip, Tony decided not to mention it. “As a result, the art of actually understanding the ailments or developing treatments is patchy at best.”

“And you intend to remedy that?”

Loki’s face went even more still at that, his grip on the coffee cup visibly tightening. “Yes,” he said, his tone just as tight. “I do.”

“Good for you,” he said with feeling, and gave him a half pat, half rub on one shoulder. “Stigmatization is a crap excuse for… well, for anything, but especially for allowing people to suffer. If there’s anyone who can show up those sticks in the mud, it’s gonna be you. Which will be doubly sweet, considering how _you’ve_ been treated before.”

Loki stared at him, searching his face intently for, Tony presumed, signs of deception. It didn’t take a genius to see that in general Loki was mistrustful of practically everyone around him. Nor did it take much to figure out that he was particularly sensitive when it came to his magic – magic in general, but his own especially.

Even before what he’d just revealed of the stigma magical illnesses had attached to them, Tony had known some of how Asgard seemed to regard magic in general. Loki had told him enough stories of his past to make it clear that one of the reasons he was considered ‘the second Prince’ was due to his affinity with magic. The stories were backed up by some passing comments Thor had made, the way Valkyrie would look at or treat Loki on occasion, or the general attitudes of any of the Asgardians they had met who and had been in Loki’s presence. It had taken Tony aback the first time he’d seen it for himself. Despite knowing firsthand some of the messed up shit Loki had done, he’d sort of assumed that his own people would have been somewhat deferential to him. At least the ‘common people’ – he hated Asgardian terminology sometimes – if not the military and guards he would have expected some degree of respect to be shown to one of their _Princes_ , no matter what he’d done. But no, they all regarded Loki with a baseline of thinly veiled contempt. And when Loki and Thor happened to be seen together, the difference in how they were treated was nauseatingly unambiguous.

Thor had once said something to the effect that on Asgard, science and magic were essentially the same thing. But from everything Tony had seen for himself of how magic was handled, perceived and it practitioners treated, that was at best a line of deceptive dogma. A belief ingrained into the people of Asgard, something they could say and believe, when in reality it was little more than lip service. The Asgardians might have a more even understanding of science and magic than Earth – Midgard, whatever – but that didn’t mean that it was a utopia. Bigotry seemed to be a phenomenon common to all people.

Tony couldn’t really blame Loki for being cautious. Not when it came to the part of him which had earned him constant, ubiquitous scorn throughout his lifetime of centuries.

After a minute of searching Tony’s face for signs of mockery and finding none, he gave a small smile. “Yes, well. That will certainly be a bonus. But the main goal is simply to improve on available treatments.”

“So benevolent you are these days.” He grinned, and realized he still hadn’t removed his hand. Giving a final parting squeeze he did so. “So, tell me stuff, I’m interested. What classifies as a ‘magical ailment,’ what do they do, and what sorts of treatments are there on the market right now, and how effective are they?”

Loki pulled a face at him, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t realize I would be giving an entire course on the subject this morning. One cup of coffee will be entirely insufficient.”

“Oh, come on. You know you love to go on about your hocus pocus stuff. And you know that you love to talk to _me_ about it.”

“Oh? And why might that be?”

_Because I’m not an idiot or a magic-bigot. Because I genuinely take an interest and try to learn the theory, even if I’ll never be able to use it myself. Because I don’t think of you as some kind of social deviant for your talent and can appreciate the sheer amount of **work** that must have gone into what you can do now. Because I appreciate **you.**_

Any of those replies would have been acceptable. They all rested on the tip of his tongue, ready to say. Instead—

“Because you love me.”

He could have slapped himself.

Loki instantly froze. He didn’t look up from where he had begun to rearrange the supplies on his table, his fingers simply hovering where they had been when Tony spoke.

Shit. Shit shit shitshit _shit_.

“It’s the only thing that makes logical sense, you know,” he went on quickly – too quickly – hoping it didn’t sound as panicked as he felt. “Anyone willing to put up with me as much as you have lately, there’s only one explanation why they would put themselves through that – it must be love. Although if you’re unfortunate enough to fall in love with me I’ll also have to assume some flavor of insanity has taken hold. Got plenty of people who’ll back me up on that assessment, too.”

Loki snorted, finally unfreezing and muttering something under his breath which sounded like ‘idiot.’ He looked up at Tony, brow raised and smirk in place. “Really? I would have thought your massive ego would have you assume that everyone just loved you, regardless of their sanity.”

He grinned, sweet relief flooding through him. “Well, you know. Could be that falling in love with me comes first. I drive them all mad.”

“Of that there is no doubt,” Loki agreed. “Norns know you’ve tried my patience on more than one occasion.”

“Ooh, careful, then. You might be falling for me.”

It got him an eye roll, but not much else. Tony classified it as a win, having successfully deflated the tension and made sure anything he said came across as just his usual flirty way of talking. Of the two of them, he was pretty sure _he_ was the one going insane.

“So, talk to me, Trouble. Now that we’ve established how amazing you are and how irresistible I am, gimme the low down. You know you want to.”

The mage gave a deep sigh, but he straightened his back and began to explain the very basics of what a magical ailment consisted of. Tony listened, a faint smile on his face. He always enjoyed listening to Loki when he chose to speak, either telling stories or explaining a premise. He had a soothing sort of cadence, especially whenever he was allowed to just ramble on without interruption. It was a good reason to get Loki talking, just to hear his voice. And if he could hear his voice, well, then, he must be close enough to be in his company, mustn’t he? And that was even better.

So he listened, filing away all of the information Loki was giving him, asking questions on occasion to show he was paying attention, but mostly just enjoying spending another quiet morning with him. And if they ended up leaning close enough together so they touched? Neither of them pointed it out, and neither of them pulled away.

Out of anyone else, Tony would have taken it as a go ahead, a sign that he wouldn’t be instantly rejected. But Loki was different. If he wanted to make any real move – and he _did_ – then Loki was going to have to make the first _real_ move.

Until then, Tony would just have to wait, slowly going insane the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up sometime tomorrow! 💕
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> You can find me on  
> Tumblr: [@ehtarwrites](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@ehtarwrites](https://twitter.com/ehtarwrites)  
> Discord: @ehtarwrites#4962 
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things, hmu! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone concerned about the upcoming violence in this chapter, it is brief and not very graphically described. No descriptions of blood and guts going on, just violent acts during a battle scene. I just like to self-flag with these sorts of things so readers can keep themselves safe. 💕

Loki was going to lose his mind if this went on much longer.

It wasn’t that the method of fighting back the curse he had found – that of physical contact – was no longer working. It _was_. He’d done a few experiments with it, determining things like duration of contact needed, duration the effects would last, what sorts of material touch was effective through and what blocked it entirely…

Despite how resistant the curse was to any sort of permanent cure, the methods and ‘rules’ to have temporary relief were relatively simple. Once he was aware of the basic principle.

Touch of any sort, so long as it came from either humans or Æsir, was effective in banishing the itch of ants crawling under his skin. Animals, as convenient as it would have been, did not have the same effect. The closer the contact was the more effective, of course, and the longer touch was maintained the longer its effects would last – that hadn’t changed. What _had_ changed all seemed set on making his life harder.

One, for some unknowable, masochistic reason known only to the dead spell casters who had put the curse on him, the touch was most effective when it came from _Anthony_. He had no idea why, but whenever it was Anthony, the curse retreated faster and for longer than with anyone else. He knew, because he’d gone through _a lot_ of experiments to be sure that _Anthony,_ of all people, was the best option. Of all those available to him, Anthony was the most effective.

Because of course he was.

Why did it have to be Anthony? Why was it _his_ touch which drove back the encroaching madness so well, why couldn’t it have been _anyone_ else? He even would have taken Thor as his go-to for contact which provided the best relief. Because going to Anthony over and over again, contriving excuses for any sort of contact, being so close and in his company while being just as far from him as he ever was… it _was_ driving him mad. The mortal’s laugh, his smile, the warm depths of his eyes, his humor and his sharp intelligence, they all worked hard on him, driving him ever closer to the edge of insanity, even as that very touch helped to pull him back.

He was caught suspended between the two, held there by a single touch, kept sane and driven mad in the same moment.

He might have considered avoiding Anthony entirely, and focusing instead on others for his source of contact. He might have, if not for one new development:

Everyone’s touch was becoming less and less effective.

Bad enough that anyone but Anthony’s touch felt like a poultice on a gaping wound, as opposed to actual _healing_ , but they soon began to lose even that much. Only Anthony’s touch brought any discernable relief, save perhaps Thor’s…

It was questionable whether he was grateful or not that Anthony himself wasn’t averse to being touched, that he almost seemed to welcome him whenever Loki drew close. It made getting the contact he needed so much easier, but touching Anthony every day, using him in such a way without his knowledge of what was going on, and all without any of the affection which might have justified being so near each other so much of the time…

He was going to lose his mind.

It was a foregone conclusion at this point. Even if he hadn’t had to deal with his own divided feelings on using Tony the way he was, he was no closer to finding an effective counter spell. The rush of optimism and determination upon the first discovery that _touch_ drove back the effects of the curse had been slowly but inexorably chipped away down to nothing. The discovery had led to no epiphanies as to the curse’s inner workings, intent, or how to break it. He was no further along in his research than when he’d begun. He’d exhausted the last few resources he had to no results. The even fewer _new_ resources he’d dug up out of pure desperation were gone. And worse?

He was about to lose Anthony.

It had taken longer to notice with him than it had with the others. And then it had taken longer for Loki to _accept_ what he was observing.

The effect of even Anthony’s touch was beginning to fail.

It still drove back the encroaching insanity. In that at least there was no change. But the effects lasted for shorter and shorter durations. Loki needed to stay with the mortal, _in physical contact_ , for longer and longer periods. It couldn’t last. He was bound to notice soon. And even if he never learned how much Loki had been using him, he would hardly let the current situation continue.

He would lose Anthony, the comforting if deceptive closeness they had – _he_ had enjoyed over the last couple of weeks. The curse would take a firm hold of him with nothing to abate it even temporarily, and he would be driven completely into the realms of insanity, with no hope of coming back.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe once he’d lost his mind, he wouldn’t remember what he’d had, ever so briefly, with Anthony before he’d lost it again. Before he’d driven him away.

—

This battle was going on too long.

Loki snarled and bashed in the face of one of the invading force’s horde with his scepter, shattered the clear visor most of them were wearing and then a good portion of the face behind it.

“Whoa,” a rather deadpan voice popped in through the bud set in Loki’s ear. “Did you forget your caffeine this morning, Green Man? You seem a little irritable.”

“Isn’t that how he always is?” Chimed in Valkyrie.

Loki snarled again, kicking away the limp body before turning to look the direction he knew the archer was stationed. “I am _fine_.”

An arrow streaked past his face, close enough to make his hair wave in its wake. There was a crunch and gurgle directly behind him.

“Glad to hear it. Try not to let them sneak up on you. That’d just be embarrassing.”

It would probably be too much to snarl for a third time, he thought. Everyone would hear it over the infernal communication device, and he was already drawing too much attention, causing too much concern. Dry as it was, Clint’s comments were indicative of his worry, and if Loki’s distress was enough to have _him_ concerned, it was showing far too much.

He looked down at the alien invader taken down by Clint’s arrow and cursed his aim. Taking a fresh grip on his scepter, Loki teleported himself to the next area, thick with enemies on which to vent his rage and frustration.

He needed this battle to be over. He needed these invaders _gone_ , back to whatever backwater they had come from and leave _this_ backwater in peace. The fighting had to stop and the combatants allowed to leave. _He_ needed to leave. _Anthony_ needed to leave.

It had been too long since they had last touched. Too long, and this battle and using his magic was only making the curse’s effects worse. It was no longer ants under his skin, it was his _skin itself_ which felt as though it were moving, heaving and bunching and attempting to crawl away from the rest of his body. Pain was constant, and the trembling of his limbs was beginning to settle into his core.

It had been too long, and it was all his own fault. The day before last, he and Anthony had more or less spent the entire day in one another’s company, culminating in their sharing the couch while watching some ridiculous cartoon. Loki, finally able to relax fully as they remained in contact, fell asleep like that, half draped over the mortal. Somehow, Tony never moved to dislodge him, and they’d slept the whole night like that. He had gotten his first full, restful night of sleep in weeks, and woken up warm and peaceful, as opposed to… well.

Letting the pain and frustration be the fuel, Loki let magic surge through him, bypassing his scepter and releasing it in a cutting arc all around him. Enemies were thrown off their feet, some by yards, and most never to rise again, the concussive force of the wave enough to burst organs.

It had been a mistake, falling asleep like that. A damned slip on his part, amongst so many others which were becoming the norm. It couldn’t be allowed to continue. He _had_ to regain some control.

More of the invaders flew through the air, and then landed with sickening _crunches_ yards away, tangles of violet, broken limbs and shattered visors.

It had probably been foolish to think he could go an entire day without Tony’s touch. Not with the rapidity the curse was progressing. But he’d still tried. He’d left almost as soon as he had woken, carrying the calmness gained from hours of consistent bodily contact with him, determined to reestablish some distance, to _not_ drive Anthony away with his behavior.

The creeping of his skin had only held off for three hours. By hour six, he was shaking. By hour eight, he’d found an excuse to be near Anthony, but only briefly.

It had been a strain to achieve, but he’d gotten through the day with only minimal contact.

The real trouble had begun the next morning.

A hand clamped down on Loki’s arm, a flash of metal speeding to his throat—

He reacted before any thoughts could get in the way. His hand went to the knife, wrapping round the fingers and _squeezing_. The sounds of wet snaps and pained shrieks came at the same time. While the alien continued to scream over its ruined hand, Loki flipped them round so they faced one another, Loki still gripping the broken hand and its blade. Without letting go of either, Loki slammed it, point first, into his attacker’s abdomen again and again.

_“Jesus…”_

He ignored the voice in his ear. It was nothing useful. If it took issue with Loki’s methods, they could do so to his face.

The fight needed to _stop_ , and soon.

He needed to find Anthony.

The flash of repulsor fire drew him to the right area, and the flash of metallic red and gold brought him straight to where Anthony was.

The fool had gotten himself pulled far away from the rest of the team, caught and pinned down by an unnecessarily large contingent of the invading horde. Worse, there seemed to be more the the usual number of heavy hitters surrounding him, soldiers sporting the equipment which gave them far too much of an advantage, somehow giving them the ability to grab hold of metal objects at a distance and manipulate them.

Enemies with the ability to manipulate metal. And Anthony, in his suit, surrounded by at least six with that ability.

Panic tuned his guts to water.

He didn’t remember starting to move, he just _was_ , speeding towards Anthony and the horde which had somehow pinned him down.

He was too far away. He could see those with the metal manipulators prepping themselves, each taking aim at Anthony, who was flying high above the ground, his attention elsewhere, not seeing that he was about to come under fire.

It wasn’t a case of deciding to speed to Anthony’s side. There was nothing to decide on that score. His body moved on imperatives that went even deeper than instinct. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to.

He watched, heart in his mouth, as Anthony jerked when the invaders switched on their weapons. Too far away, _too far away_ —

Anthony stilled for a moment, and then every one of his limbs jerked outwards, spreading him out in a midair splay. He trembled in place – the weapons’ doing, or was he struggling to break free? – and the invaders all round him began to jibber excitedly.

And then Anthony’s armor began to peel away.

Small pieces at first, then large chunks of the Iron Man suit were pulled away from Anthony, some still crackling with electricity as they tried to keep themselves together. It was all ripped apart, ripped away from Anthony and crumpled into useless balls of scrap, leaving him exposed in nothing but the clothing he’d been wearing when the call had come. Useless, defenseless clothing, it would do nothing to protect him.

The face plate came away, revealing Anthony’s face, a mixture of anger and fear etched in his expression. One of the invaders raised another weapon to take aim and _if Loki could just go a little faster—_

Loki slammed into him an instant before the weapon was fired. He felt the heat of the shot – the shot intended for Anthony – across his back. Loki turned in midair, flinging out the arm which wasn’t holding Anthony close to him, close and _safe_ —

There was no thought behind the magic he threw out. There was only rage to fuel the blast, rage and fear and how _dare_ they even _attempt_ to hurt _his_ Anthony—!

The blast of magic blew back every one of the invaders, flipped cars parked along the street, and blew out every window of the surrounding buildings.

When they came to ground, Loki clutched on to Anthony. There was no more threat just now, but his human was still terribly vulnerable without his armor, and that had been close, so _terribly close—_

“Lokes…? Hey, Loki, are you alright? C’mon, loosen up a bit, I’m fine—“

_“No.”_

He couldn’t let go even if he wanted to. That had been too near a thing. If Loki had been a moment later…

He had to hold on to him, _his_ Anthony. To come so close to losing him, right before his eyes… he needed the reassurance of contact. It was comforting, soothing to feel the warmth of Anthony seeping through his clothes, the in and out of his breaths, the strength and _realness_ of his body. Just holding him made Loki relax a little, the itching, buzzing pain beneath his skin retreating…

Oh.

He couldn’t let go, not only out of relief, but because holding Anthony finally, _finally_ brought relief from the curse. It was ridiculous how quickly the feeling eased away with Anthony in his arms. Yet he knew the moment he let go, it would all come rushing back.

He couldn’t let go. _He couldn’t._ He’d go mad.

Anthony had stilled somewhat, no longer attempting to push Loki away or to wiggle free. Instead he’d put his arms about Loki as well, hesitantly, and begun to alternately pat and rub at his back. Loki couldn’t help the shudder which ran through him at the relief the extra contact brought, and at the slightly guilt-tinged euphoria that _Anthony_ was holding _him_.

“It’s alright, Lokes. Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m here, I’ll help however I can…”

More comfort. More kindness he didn’t deserve, especially not from the man he had been surreptitiously using for weeks. He shouldn’t have any comfort at all. Anthony, by all rights, ought to have been flinging Loki away as far as he could manage.

Loki held on tighter.

It was only when the sounds of others approaching made it to his awareness that Loki half released Anthony, swinging round with one hand raised to blast away whoever it was who would dare attack _again_ —

And came far too close to unleashing his magic directly into the faces of Valkyrie and Captain Rogers. They both stopped in their tracks, Valkyrie with a scowl, Rogers with palms up in a placating gesture.

“Whoa, Loki, stand down. What happened here, why weren’t either of you responding—?”

“Yeah, sorry, Cap,” Anthony shifted, catching Rogers’ attention. Loki’s grip on him tightened slightly, but Anthony made no real move to pull away. He stayed close to Loki, one of his arms still around Loki’s waist, just as one of Loki’s was round his shoulders. “Lost my comm when the baddies busted out the magnet guns. Probably somewhere in the scrap. And I think Lokes lost his when he put the giant whammy on everyone.”

Loki blinked, attempting to focus. Yes, the communication device. He’d lost it at some point, either in his mad dash or, as Anthony suggested, when he’d let loose with the magical blast. It was why he’d heard none of the annoying jabber in his ear for the last few minutes. He gave a nod to Rogers, not up to speaking quite yet.

Rather than harangue either of them for losing their comms, Rogers was looking around the scene of the battle, on incredulous look on his face. “Wait, _Loki_ did all of this?”

Under normal circumstances, Loki would have taken offence at the comment simply on principle. The tone the uppity human used to refer to him, as though he were _weak_ or _incapable_ … But he just couldn’t muster the energy or focus to get riled up. And to tell true, looking at the damage he’d wrought, it really was impressive. Like they had given the Hulk free reign for fifteen minutes. It was rare that Loki let loose with such wide-spread, destructive power. Possibly he’d never done so in front of the Avengers? But he’d had a good reason, and hardly any choice in how his magic had chosen to present itself.

He looked to Anthony, who was still quiescent in his grip, just in time to catch him go from looking at the damage around them with a dumbfounded expression to looking up at him, eyes wide.

For a moment Loki’s heart lurched at the expression. He saw in Anthony’s face all of the progress they had made towards a true friendship being swept away in a moment – a moment of clarity. He had seen what Loki was capable of, the sort of power he _could_ unleash is he wished, had seen how uncontrolled he could be. Anthony had always seemed to appreciate his wit and humor, his penchant for mischief in general – it always seemed to be one of the things which made him light up the most, which he seemed to… to _like_ the most about him. Now, though, now he had seen the destructive side of that coin – his rage and his unpredictability. It was only a tiny part he had seen, only a glimpse of the monster he was within, the monster which no amount of Royal rearing had ever managed to fully stamp out of him.

And no one should be expected to care for a monster.

_“… wow.”_

Loki blinked.

Anthony… wasn’t pulling away from him. The wide eyes weren’t full of fear or disgust, they were… bright. Interested.

Anthony was pressing _closer_.

“Was this much force entirely necessary?” Rogers was insisting on knowing. “Did it occur to you to call for backup? The damage alone—“

“A—Stark was in danger,” Loki snapped, his voice barely more than a growl. He leveled his glare at the Captain who, to his credit, did not back down or flinch. “ _Immediate_ danger, surrounded by enemies. I was the only one near enough to help, and barely at that.” He narrowed his eyes at the Captain, unconsciously pulling Anthony even more tightly against his side. “Rather than blaming others for your incompetency as a leader, War Man, perhaps you should concentrate on bettering your coordination skills.”

Rogers’ face really could turn an impressive shade of red, given the proper reason.

“Lokes, don’t—“

“Brother!”

Like the lightning he was so fond of calling down, Thor arrived on the scene from the sky, landing before Loki and Anthony, positioned – probably deliberately – between them and Rogers. Thor took in the fallen warriors and widespread damage, took in his brother and teammates arranged as they were, apparently ready to fight _each other_ now the common foe was defeated. He frowned. “What goes on here?”

“Not much, Point Break!” Anthony chimed in, far too cheerfully. “You missed all the real fun with the fighting and whatnot. Really, Loki beat you to it – and finished them all off, I’ll add.” There it was again. A note in Tony’s voice which suggested fascination rather than disgust.

Before he could decide how he was meant to interpret that, Rogers spoke up. “Them and the rest of the street. Loki decided that the whole neighborhood needed to be taken out with the hostiles.”

When Thor cast a curious glance back at him, Loki did his best to convey what was happening in as few words as possible. “Anthony was in danger, Thor.”

Thor paused. He glanced around again at the damage all around them, then gave Anthony – and the unbreakable grip Loki still had on him – a long look.

His brother could be a fool sometimes, but at others he could be incredibly insightful. He was glad that Thor decided to be the latter in this case.

Using diplomatic skills Loki would have thought beyond him, Thor steered both Captain Rogers and Valkyrie away from him and Anthony. Rogers resisted but went eventually, while Valkyrie went willingly enough, though with plenty of curious looks back at them.

Once they had gone, Loki waited. Still holding Anthony close, unable to let him go, knowing what would happen if he _did_ let go, and knowing, _knowing_ that soon Anthony would be pulling away, no matter what he did…

“So… Lokes.”

Loki sighed. It had only ever been a matter of time.

Anthony still wasn’t pulling away, but he was looking at Loki with a mixture of concern and confusion. Even his arm remained in place, Loki could still feel the heat of his hand seeping into his back. Loki pressed into it just a little, stowing the precise weight and feel of the touch into his memory, to take out again in the future. When he would no longer have the benefit of the touch itself.

“There something you wanna talk about?”

“No, Stark,” he said, closing his eyes a moment. “I very much would prefer _not_ to speak of anything just now.”

“Huh. Well, that’s too bad, because we’re going to.” Anthony looked up at him with a frown – more concerned than angry. “You’ve been acting kind of strange for a while, now, Loki. Honestly I should have brought it up sooner, but… Yeah. So I’m asking – I’m _telling_ you, now. We need to talk.”

Loki studied Anthony’s face, considering, when really there was nothing at all to consider. Anthony was perfectly right. It was long past time for them to talk, for Loki to admit what he’d been doing all this time, and see what Anthony made of it. And him. He nodded tiredly. “Of course. Back at the Tower?”

“Sounds good to me. Better than amid the spoils of war.” He pulled a face, looking round at their fallen foes.

“May I request one thing, Stark?”

“Sure?”

“Will you… keep hold of me? Until we’ve had our talk?”

“… sure, Lokes. Whatever you need.”

—

Tony sat, staring at Loki, trying to process everything he’d just been told. It wasn’t that it was particularly hard to understand, but it certainly cast the last couple of weeks in a new light.

“So,” he said after a minute or two of silence. “Just running through the basics, here. While you and the interplanetary adventurers were out and about fighting space squids, you got whammied with some sort of spell.”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. Ever since he’d finished telling Tony what had been happening, he’d fallen completely silent, eyes staring fixedly on the floor. “Yes,” he said, voice flat.

“And this spell is so unfamiliar that you haven’t been able to remove or break it up. It’s _still_ on you.”

“Yes.”

“Right. Okay. And the spell, it… it’s some kind of pain spell? And the only way you’ve found so far to counteract it is with physical contact with another person.”

The muscles in Loki’s jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. Still refusing to meet Tony’s eye, he gave a stiff nod. “Yes.”

“Right.” He looked down at his hand. His hand which was holding one of Loki’s hands. His own grip was light, but Loki’s knuckles were blanching under the strain. It must have just been tension in his hand, though, because Tony’s fingers weren’t being crushed in a ridiculous Asgardian grip. “So this is to keep the pain at bay.”

“Yes.”

“And all of the touching the last couple of weeks? Same thing?”

The hand around his twitched. “… yes.” It was spoken so quietly that the word was nearly lost, even in the relative silence of Tony’s penthouse. It had seemed like the best place to have any sort of private conversation – away from the rest of the Avengers and any questions they might have, and still comfortable enough so any questions wouldn’t seem like an inquisition.

Tony stared at their hands, clasped together between them. He thought over the last two weeks, how often Loki had sought him out, all the time they had spent together… all of the ‘accidental’ brushes of hands, the casual leans bringing them into contact… not, as Tony had thought, a sign of their growing closer and more comfortable around one another. All calculated, all with an ulterior motive. He remembered, and he remembered all of the hope it had given him. Hope that perhaps, just perhaps they might be making some kind of deeper connection… All a farce. Just a front to get the contact he needed in order to shake off a spell for a few minutes.

For a moment, Tony let himself feel just a little bit angry, a little bit used. Of all of the devilish schemes which he might have expected Loki to pull on them, weaseling into his heart only to break it hadn’t been one of them. Maybe that was why it hurt as much as it did.

But it only lasted for a minute. Only long enough for him to remember that the last two weeks had amounted to more than just stray touches and stolen contact.

The weeks had also been filled with plenty of talking. Stories traded back and forth between them, memories of childhood and growing up, of discoveries and pranks and wild nights. They’d traded jokes, and when Loki came to visit him in his lab, Loki would ask questions on what he was working on, taking an interest, his eyes bright as he listened to Tony go on, explaining every detail. He would in turn seem to take delight in explaining certain aspects over his own projects and how he was handling different difficulties. Both of them bragging about how very clever they were to each other.

He might have faked taking an interest in what Tony was working on as an excuse to get close enough for the coveted touch, but… there hadn’t been anything fake about the interest Loki had shown. And there were other things which would make no sense to bother with if all Loki had wanted was proximity. The laughter, the little looks and smiles they’d shared… none of it necessary just to get to hold hands.

“Alright.” He took a deep breath, unconsciously gripping Loki’s hand just a little tighter. “Big question time, then… Why didn’t you just tell me all of this and _ask_ for my help?”

For a second Loki didn’t respond at all. He sat, frozen, even his breathing stalling out. When he replied, he kept his head down, eyes averted. “I… did not think that you would be… amenable to such a thing.”

“To what? Helping out a friend who’s in trouble? What kind of asshole do you take me for, Lokes? You know what, don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know, without a shadow of doubt what sort of dick you think I am to think that I would do that.” He huffed out a breath. He was angry, yes, and the anger was fueling his babbling. But it was anger without a real target, and he could already feel it ebbing away… and then coming back again in a fresh little wave. “So you’ve been dealing with this curse for close to a month, and it never occurred to you that I might _want_ to help you get rid of it? Or scratch that, it never occurred to you to _ask me anyway_ to try and help? I may not be a super-duper magic wielder like yourself, but I’m not exactly an idiot, either. _I could have helped._ ”

At first Loki flinched away from the rebuke, his eyes skittering away even further from Tony, as though attempting to hide away from him and his disapproval, even as he continued to hold Tony’s hand. Then the actual words apparently began to penetrate through to his consciousness. Slowly, cautiously, he turned back to Tony, raising his eyes to look at him directly for the first time since he’d even begun to explain this whole mess. It was strange to see Loki look so timid. It was so out of character for Loki that it actually got Tony to calm down a little.

“You… would have assisted?”

Tony snorted, the last of the aimless anger dying out. Well, not completely aimless. He knew why he was mad, and it was all because of the pain that Loki had subjected himself to, all because he didn’t believe that Tony either could or _would_ help him.

It was hard to maintain that kind of anger when he was being stared at with eyes brimming with uncertainty.

“You’re an idiot, you know that? Though I can’t exactly say that you’re alone in that,” he admitted, thinking back over his own history of problems and how often he’d hidden them from people who _would_ have helped if they’d known. Or tried, at least. And he’d only ever hidden things because he believed that no one _could_ help him, or would, or he just didn’t want to worry anyone pointlessly…

Without thinking about what he was doing, Tony reached out, brushing back a stray lock of Loki’s hair before cupping his cheek. Loki startled at the contact, eyes going wide, his hand in Tony’s tightening. “But now I know,” he said quietly, “and I _want to help_ , you stubborn bastard. And unless you decide to try and actively _keep_ me from helping, I’m going to. Probably still will even if you do, honestly. I can be just as stubborn as you.”

Loki stared at him a moment more, his eyes searching Tony’s face, before he relaxed with a sigh. “Yes,” he said, leaning into the touch of Tony’s hand. “I would say that is a fair assessment.”

It felt as though it were Tony’s heart being held between their hands, squeezed until there was no way it could ever beat again. He had to remind himself – it didn’t mean anything. The contact, the acceptance, the push and desire for _more_ , it had nothing to do with how Loki did or did not feel about _him_. He was in pain, his touch lessened that pain. That was all.

“Why me?”

Loki sighed, his eyes still closed, not pulling away from Tony’s hand. “There were several factors,” he murmured, sounding tired above all else. “The first was… simply a matter of convenience. You were near, accessible, and… not Thor. The second was that you, in general, have never shown any aversion to the idea of touch. It seemed plausible not only that contact could be gained from you easily, but that you might not even notice. And third—“ He cut off for a moment, a line appearing between his brows as he frowned. When he opened his eyes the frown remained, but it wasn’t one of annoyance or anger. “Your touch, for whatever reason, has always been the most effective in chasing back the curse. The most effective, and longest lasting out of any other person’s. And…” He trailed off again, this time with no outward sign that he intended to continue.

“And?”

Loki bit at his lips, the green of his eyes growing murky as a swamp. “And your touch… seems to have become the only touch which is effective any longer. I don’t know why, any more than I know the _whys_ of any part of this curse, but… it has gradually become so that the touch of anyone _other_ than you has absolutely no effect. Only yours.”

Only his touch was effective? Tony frowned. Was that important to the nature of the curse, or was it incidental? Did it mean anything that _Tony_ was the only one able to provide relief, or would it have become anyone else, had they been the one Loki chose to spend the most time with? Ought he to feel this bubbling sense of pride, that _he_ was the only one who could provide relief, or ought he to feel the quiet dread lurking around his ears, that Loki had no _choice_ but to be near him, because there were no other options?

At least he rated higher than constant agony.

He nodded, tucking away all of those thoughts as best he could. They could all wait. Right now, he wanted to focus entirely on Loki.

“Alright, then. I’m all up to speed, I think. Big bad magic, makes for big bad ow. No cure or fix for it yet, despite the genius magic brain working on it. Only band aid that seems to do any good is yours truly. So.” He blew out a breath. “What do we do now?”

Loki stared at him, his expression blank and unreadable. It would have been hard to say for certain how he would have reacted under normal circumstances – but Tony would have thought there would be some energy to it. Some enthusiasm to the proposal of tackling a problem with a new set of hands and – hopefully – just the right sort of new perspective to crack the riddle. But there was none of that. Right now, he just looked…

“Now? Now I can think of nothing, save rest.” One of Loki’s hands came up and caught Tony’s against his cheek. “It has been weeks since I’ve had more than a single night’s rest uninterrupted.”

A single night…? Oh. Oh, _damn_.

“You mean the effects of personal contact wear off before you can get a full night’s sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Which means that the only full night of sleep you’ve had, this entire time, was that night when we fell asleep on the couch?” He hoped Loki could tell that the horror in his voice stemmed from how little sleep he’d been getting, and not the remembrance that they had slept together on the couch.

Loki gave another sigh, and nodded into Tony’s hand.

Right. That would explain a few things, then. Actually, it would probably explain quite a few things. It would explain why Loki never looked as though he’d slept, obviously, but long term sleep deprivation? Tony was old friends with that particular monster. Not sleeping well for a day or two would explain the exhaustion and looking like he’d been steamrolled. A few more and that would explain any mild to moderate behavioral changes, as moods and judgement started to go haywire. Soon after would begin the hallucinations, not being able to think clearly, and generally feeling like crap. Possibly starting to feel like he was going insane…

“Right!” Carefully, he pulled his hand away from Loki’s cheek, and, conscious of the amount of contact he was taking away and therefore the amount of _relief_ he was taking away – he quickly put that hand on Loki’s knee, maintaining the contact. Loki’s hand never left his. “I may not know much about magic, beyond the little 101 classes you’ve been giving me, but I know plenty about being caught in a tight spot and needing to figure my way out of it again. Lots of practice on that one. So we are going to get you in the best shape possible to tackle this problem, and then we’re both going to have a go at it together!”

The look Loki leveled on him was uncertain. Had he been looking this bad the last couple of weeks and Tony just hadn’t noticed? Or had Loki been covering how poorly he’d been doing so well?

“Your assistance would be most welcome, An—Stark. But how do you intend to accomplish an improvement in my condition?”

Tony swallowed. It was fine. Loki was his friend – his friend _in need_ , and he was willing to do a lot to help his friends who were in trouble. What sort of friend or superhero would he be if he didn’t help when help was needed? Besides, it wasn’t as though this were even that big of a deal, what he was about to offer. Nothing had to change as a result. It was just another sort of rescue.

So what if his heart was bruised in the process? It would be worth it to save Loki’s life.

“Easy. We’re going to get you the rest you need. Pain free.”

Loki’s gaze became wary. “And how do you propose we manage that?”

“We’re going to sleep together, Lokes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up sometime tomorrow! 💕
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> You can find me on  
> Tumblr: [@ehtarwrites](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@ehtarwrites](https://twitter.com/ehtarwrites)  
> Discord: @ehtarwrites#4962 
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things, hmu! ♥


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for schmoop.

Madness. Pure madness. Perhaps it was already too late to save whatever remnants of his mind remained after the tortures of the last month, because obviously whatever it was which was left was a wreck. Would it be worth dragging him back from the curse when he was so warped and broken that he would think what he was considering even _slightly_ a good idea?

And yet, here he was, trying to save himself and accepting Anthony’s proposal as a way of doing so.

_“We’re going to sleep together, Lokes.”_

Sleep together. With Anthony Stark.

Sleep, and nothing else. But in close contact, because that was going to be the entire point of this exercise. To sleep he would need to be without pain or itching, and to accomplish that he would need Anthony’s touch continuously throughout the night. So, they would share a bed for the night, and with luck he would arise much more clearheaded in the morning, able to tackle the riddle of the curse with renewed vigor.

It was a logical approach. Practical. The best of the options they had available at the moment and an incredible kindness for Anthony to offer – and done so with no hesitation.

It made Loki’s stomach churn.

The one time something similar had happened, when they had fallen asleep together on the couch, it had nearly sent him into a panic on the spot. It hadn’t been intentional, but he’d been so very tired, and it had been late, and Anthony had been so warm, his closeness driving away the pain completely for the first time in what felt like an eternity…

An accident. An innocent mistake which anyone might have made given the circumstances, and in no way indicative of how Loki might feel for Anthony. Nor was it necessarily any sort of sign for how Anthony felt for him, outside ‘comfortable.’ But it _was_ a sign, yet another sign, of just how much Loki was willing to use Anthony for his own gain, without his knowledge or consent.

And yet, even knowing how much he had used him, Anthony was still willing to offer what Loki had simply _taken_ before.

It wasn’t acceptance. That was the one thing which Loki was holding on to with an iron grip. Anthony offering to help him, even in an arguably intimate way, did not constitute _acceptance_. It was simply… sympathy. And doing for him something he no doubt would have offered to anyone else in the same position.

It wasn’t acceptance.

But…

“Stark, are you certain—?”

“Don’t,” Anthony was quick to cut him off, and the hand still holding Loki’s tightened for emphasis. “Don’t you dare try and talk me out of helping you right after you got done telling me _what_ this whammy has been doing to you. Just don’t, alright?”

It was difficult to look Anthony in the eye, too risky when he might see the turmoil going on inside him, but when Anthony added a second hand to his, holding him completely, he lifted his head. Brown eyes shot with gold stared into him, and his heart leapt, while paradoxically he calmed under the gaze, under the warm touch.

“I haven’t been able to help you all this time,” he said quietly. “Let me help now.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that. He was too tired to think of a good enough reason to reject Anthony’s help which he would actually accept, and too worn to want to. It would be so much simpler just to accept it, so he did.

He nodded, and Anthony let out a breath, a small smile lightening his face. “C’mon, then,” he said quietly, tugging at his hands. “Bedtime.”

Loki followed without any further protest as Anthony led him to his bedroom, his heart hammering against his ribs as he tried to convince his body that this was fine, it was _fine_ …

Anthony hesitated on the threshold, and looked up at Loki, a small frown on his face. “Is here alright, or would you be more comfortable in your bed?”

Perhaps going mad would have been preferable. Though at least now his end seemed to be guaranteed as a much quicker one if Anthony had anything to do with it. His heart would simply give out.

“Your bed is fine,” he said, and had to mask a wince at how thick his voice sounded to his own ears.

If Anthony noticed it, he gave no sign. He simply nodded, and then tugged him through the door into his private rooms.

It wasn’t the first time he had ever been in Anthony’s bedroom. There had been cause in the past to venture in, though never to stay for very long. Like much of the rest of his living spaces, Anthony’s bedroom was understated in its finery, its luxury to be found more in the quality and clean lines than in any sort of ostentation. It was nothing like his own rooms back on Asgard, or any of the Royal Family, whose chambers were for the most part stuffed to the brim with all manner of bric-a-brac. In Thor’s case it had been tapestries depicting the history of Asgard, souvenirs gathered from other Realms – mostly weapons – and all manner of useless things he liked to pick up and forget about. Loki’s rooms then had been very much the same as they were now in the Tower: cluttered with books, scrolls and boxes full of esoteric ingredients for his workings.

In contrast, Anthony’s rooms were nearly barren. A bed – a very _nice_ bed, but very simple – a couple of nightstands, bereft of anything save a few small items and glasses of water, a wide, full-length mirror, some seats, the door to his wardrobe, and another door which led to his en suite.

At first Loki had been puzzled by the dichotomy. Anthony Stark was not one whom he would have ever described as ‘austere,’ and yet to look at his rooms, where one could reasonably expect there to be some reflection of his personality, that was exactly the sort of impression one got.

It wasn’t until Loki had been granted access to his workshops for the first time that he really understood. _There_ was where Anthony’s personality really shone through, in clutter and projects and screens and loud music – all the threads and streams of his consciousness running at once, with Anthony moving easily between them all, never losing track of any of it. It was mesmerizing to watch him when he was at work, to see how his mind worked when it was represented physically. He ought to have guessed that it was in Anthony’s shops where he would find more of his true self. It had taken considerably longer to be allowed _there_ than his private rooms, after all. And Anthony, when he did sleep, seemed to do half of it in his shops anyway.

Yet even so, there was an inherent intimacy to Anthony’s bedroom which his lab did not possess. This room _smelled_ of Anthony in a way which went beyond engine grease and the ozone scent of electricity. It smelled only of him, with none of the trappings of his calling to obscure it. It took what little willpower Loki had left to not stop and breathe it in.

Once inside, Anthony paused again, perhaps working out the logistics of how this was going to work. He glanced at Loki, and then down at himself. It was easy to see which way his mind was running – they were both fully dressed, and in Loki’s case still in the heavy leathers he wore into battle.

“Uh. You got any pajamas you would like to magic yourself into?”

He nodded, feeling a little slow to catch up with the train of thought. “Of course.” After the immense amount of power he’d used during the battle earlier, doing anything with his seiðr now felt like a strain. But a change of clothes was simple, and familiar enough to need no special concentration.

The leathers disappeared and were replaced with much lighter, much softer linens, with loose fitting trousers and an equally loose fitted tunic. He breathed a short sigh of relief, glad to be out of the stifling layers.

Anthony stared for a moment, taking in the change, from the tunic to his bare feet. He shook his head. “Right, yeah. I should, uh. Get changed, too.”

Loki looked him over. Thankfully there was no iron man suit to contend with, but he could see how his street clothes could be uncomfortable.

Perhaps forgetting, Anthony tried to release Loki’s hand. More on instinct than anything else, Loki clutched at his hand, not letting him pull away. The base thrum still crawled under his skin, the phantom insects still setting him to interminable itching… but it would be so much worse without even the small bit of contact he was getting through Anthony’s hand. He wasn’t about to give that up.

Anthony glanced down at their hands. “Oh. Right. Sorry, Lokes. Started to run on auto, there.” He squeezed Loki’s hand, a gentle assurance that he wouldn’t forget again, that he wasn’t leaving any time soon, and gave him an equally gentle smile. “C’mon, then. I need to get out of my shoes, at least.”

It was awkward, both physically and psychologically, to allow Anthony to get ready for sleep. It was impossible to hold hands throughout the entire process – shoes were easy enough to remove without one’s hands, but trousers were more involved – so there were times when instead Loki simply kept a hand on Anthony’s shoulder or arm. Whenever his hands were free again, the mechanic would make a point to touch Loki, even if it were just a quick brush, as though he were reassuring Loki that he was still there, still within reach. It was more comforting than Loki really wanted to admit.

More awkward than how they had to move around one another was just the fact that Loki was present _while Anthony was undressing._ He averted his eyes when Anthony began to undo his pants – though the sound and feel of him moving only fueled his imagination.

Eventually he finished undressing – thank the Norns – stopping when he was in no more than his boxes – black and fitted – and a thin sleeveless shirt – white and also fitted to his form. He glanced down at himself briefly. “You said skin to skin is better than through cloth, right?”

Loki’s pulse jumped at that, a half formed idea of what Anthony might intend lurking at the back of his mind… “Yes.”

The man nodded. “Right. I’ll skip the sweatpants for tonight, then.”

Loki released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relief and guilty disappointment running through him in equal measure. He berated himself for allowing himself to think along those lines, for even a moment. He’d already taken enough advantage of the man, this was a _favor_ he was doing. He had no right at all to expect more, to even imagine more than what Anthony was already offering.

Then Anthony looked up at him, a faint blush across his cheek, and all thoughts stuttered to a halt completely.

“So, uh. Do you prefer to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

Loki blinked, trying to process the question when his mind was refusing to give him much more than static. After a moment he shook his head. “I… have no preference. So long as there is contact of some kind, I don’t believe it matters.”

A small frown came to his face, though it didn’t quite chase away his blush. “So it doesn’t matter _where_ you’re touched, the effect is equally distributed?”

“The effect is localized,” he said, thankful for the question. It helped him focus. “But it builds over time, and spreads. In theory, just holding hands, if done long enough, should have the desired outcome.” He swallowed, and looked down to where their hands were clasped together. Anthony’s hand, darker than his own and sturdy, their fingers curling round each other. He resisted the urge to trace his thumb over the back of Anthony’s hand, across his knuckles. Such intimacy was not warranted, and would not be welcome. “No more would be required than this,” he said, speaking to their hands. “If you do not wish any further contact.”

There was a long quiet pause. A pause filled, Loki was sure, with Anthony thanking his lucky stars that he wouldn’t have to go so far as he thought he would. Loki kept his eyes down, watching only their hands, convincing himself that even this would be enough, keeping himself from watching the relief in Anthony’s eyes…

A hand touched his cheek, and Loki couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him. The relief was so instant, so _sharp_ , that it was very nearly its own brand of pain. He leaned into it, body moving with no input from his brain, firming the gentle graze of Anthony’s fingers against his cheek. It felt so good, and Anthony’s hand was so warm…

“Have you ever tested that?”

Loki blinked, bringing himself back from the half doze which had instantly set in at the touch. “… tested what?”

Anthony was watching him carefully, their faces so close together that he could see the striations of color in his eyes. “Have you ever tried only a very small amount of contact,” he squeezed Loki’s hand, “over a very long period of time to see if it would really eventually spread and affect your whole body?”

He opened his mouth, on the cusp of saying ‘yes,’ but had to stop himself. There had been experiments carried out with Thor, and they had revealed a lot in the way of how the curse worked, but… they had never achieved what Anthony suggested. Full, if temporary, banishment of the pain while only maintaining minimal contact. There had been something near, where they had maintained only a small amount of contact for a long period, but the spread of the relief had eventually slowed to such a pace that it wasn’t worth stretching it out any longer.

“No,” he admitted. “Not for the duration that we intend.”

“And for any other durations? Did it work?”

“Not… entirely.”

“Then I’d say we better not risk it, don’t you think? We want you completely pain free, and to get a full night of sleep. No half measures.”

He took a deep of breath, attempting to calm his heart as well as his thoughts. Kindness is what it was, simply kindness. Kindness he might not fully deserve, but kindness all the same.

He nodded into Anthony’s hand. “No half measures.”

Anthony gave a single nod, the almost imperceptible frown clearing away at last. It was good to see that, Loki thought. Far too often Anthony wore a frown, or his face was pinched in some other expression of worry or distress. Better when his face was clear and open, wearing smiles, his eyes alight with laughter. It was why he tried so often to get Anthony to laugh. It was one of the things he had done for him which Loki could think of as a real positive, to have brought a smile to his face.

The hand at Loki’s cheek slipped downward, crossing his jaw and to his throat, a wave of relief flowing in the wake of his touch. He shivered, the ache and itch of the rest of his body seeming to grow even worse in comparison, and the deep, constant tremble which worked its way through bone and organ intensified.

There was no possible way that Anthony failed to notice his reaction, but he said nothing. He let his hand settle where it was, the weight pressing into Loki’s shoulder, the heat soaking into his throat. After a few moments of silence, he disengaged his opposite hand with Loki’s, and brought it up to push a loose lock of Loki’s hair out of his face, fingertips grazing over brow and temple.

“Does the curse make _everything_ hurt? Even your face?”

He had to swallow before he could answer. “Everything. Every inch of skin, every joint, every muscle – it’s all affected.”

“Christ.”

Loki huffed, a humorless chuckle. “Yes.”

Ticklish fingertips became finger pads, tracing the arch of his brows, the sharp curve of a cheekbone, down his cheek… Loki allowed his eyes to flutter shut.

“This makes it feel better?”

“Yes.” It came out as nothing more than a whisper.

Apparently taking that as a cue, Anthony matched him in volume. “Is it alright?”

“Oh, yes.”

In all honesty, it was much, _much_ better than ‘alright.’ Wherever Anthony touched him, it felt as though… as though before his entire skin had been made of countless ropes, tied and knotted to the point of strangling him. At Anthony’s soft touch, the knots unwound, the ropes loosened, and at last he could breathe. Anthony’s touch replaced the pain, and reminded him that there was more to feel than just agony.

He continued to touch Loki’s face, fingers light as they outlined every feature. Along the line of his jaw, across the dip between lip and chin, up alongside his nose to trace ever so gently over his eyelids… Anthony seemed determined that no single centimeter be forgotten. He even brushed over Loki’s lips, the touch so intimate it pulled Loki briefly out of the half hypnotized state he had fallen into. He’d begun… well, not to _forget_ who it was that was touching him, but to disconnect the who from the touch so that it no longer seemed to matter. All which mattered was how the pain and tightness was being undone at last.

When the touch reached his lips, they parted of their own violation as he drew in a sharp breath, and Anthony’s scent abruptly became a _taste_.

Anthony froze, and Loki didn’t dare open his eyes. Instead he forced himself to remain as relaxed as he possibly could, breathing out again slowly, as though nothing were wrong.

His breath over Anthony must have tickled. He felt the man tremble in reaction to him.

After a moment and what sounded like a deep breath, Anthony removed his thumb, and both of his hands traveled up, and every one of his fingers buried themselves into his hair. It was an effort to remain standing. His knees wanted to give out, and he had to bite back a moan at the sensation of Anthony’s fingers pressing into his scalp. Even had there been no pain to drive back, this probably would have undone him just as much as it was now.

How long they stood there, with Anthony’s hands deep in his hair, Loki wouldn’t have been able to say very accurately. He was lost in the sensations of relief, of Anthony’s hands on him, and all else might as well have not existed.

It wasn’t until Anthony spoke, something which sounded like, “Hell with it,” that Loki came back to himself.

He opened his eyes just in time for Anthony to wrap his arms around him and draw him close in an embrace.

Time seemed to stop. Loki froze in place, his mind going blank. Anthony was… holding him. His arms wrapped around his back, their bodies pressed together, the shorter man’s head turned so that the side of his face was pressed into one shoulder. The short, spiky locks tickled at Loki’s nose, the scent of Anthony’s shampoo something like coconut.

And it felt so _good_. There was so much contact, all at once, and all working so quickly it made him lightheaded with the rush of it. So much relief, after so long of being in constant agony…

Without thinking, Loki brought his arms up in order to return the embrace. Anthony didn’t seem to mind it, nor when Loki tightened the embrace, as though pressure could bring even greater relief, as if it could bring them any closer together.

He didn’t hear it, but he felt it when Anthony sighed – when he relaxed into the embrace. Soon his hands began moving, a soothing up and down, stroking along his spine. He didn’t dare to return the motion. There was no need, after all. Anthony was touching as much of Loki as possible to negate the curse, so it was understandable why he would do what he was doing. If Loki were to do the same, he would only be affecting his palms. There would be no material gain, therefore no real reason to pet Anthony in that way… Save that he _wanted_ to. Oh, how he wanted to. Far and beyond anything to do with the curse crawling in his flesh, he wanted to explore Anthony with his hands, to map every bit of him the way Anthony had done with his face…

He _wanted_ so very much, it caused a different sort of ache entirely. He wanted, and now he had Anthony in his arms… and still it wasn’t enough. A selfish creature he was, nothing ever seemed to be enough to satisfy him. Until he had _everything_ of Anthony, he would never be satisfied. He would simply have to live with the disappointment…

He didn’t want to live with disappointment anymore. He’d lived his entire life with one form of disappointment or other, it seemed, and he’d had enough.

In his arms, Anthony shifted slightly. “Lokes…” his voice was strained. _“Air.”_

It took a moment for the word to register. When it did, Loki loosened his hold, not realizing just how tightly he’d been holding the relatively fragile human.

He loosened his grip, enough to allow Anthony room to draw in the air he needed, but not so much that they could pull away from each other. Not that Anthony appeared to be in any particular hurry to do so. He gasped for a moment, his ribcage pressing against Loki’s arms and warm breath against his neck as he huffed, a chuckle buried in there somewhere.

“Never really pegged you as a bear-hug type of guy, Lokes,” he said, still sounding out of breath.

Loki could only give a small grunt in answer to that. Normally he _wasn’t_ the hugging type, not even the _touching_ type, but this was an emergency. And even if it hadn’t been… this was Anthony.

“So I’m assuming that this is helping as well?”

He nodded, Anthony’s soft hair tickling his face. It _was_ helping, even if a different kind of ache was left in its place. An ache for _more_.

He began tightening his grip again without realizing what he was doing. As soon as he did notice, he stopped, but it took physical _effort_ to not crush the man into his chest. A tremble wracked through him from head to toe.

There was no way that Anthony could _fail_ to notice.

“Lokes, are you sure you’re okay? If this is too much—“ Anthony shifted, as though he intended to move away from him.

What little control he had which was keeping him from simply crushing the human to him would not extend so far as to _letting him go_.

 _“No.”_ His grip over Anthony tightened again, not to the point of hampering his breathing, but enough to keep him still. To his credit, Anthony did still immediately. “Not too much,” Loki managed. _“Not enough.”_

He couldn’t see Tony’s expression, but he could feel by the way his body tensed and shifted that he was taken by surprise. “Not enough? Is the pain not dissipating?”

He was tempted to snarl outright. “Yes, it is, but… I need _more_.”

How was he meant to explain it? The ache left behind when there was no pain – an ache which only seemed to abate even slightly when Anthony was held close, his warmth soaking into him, chasing away pain, curse and loneliness… How to explain that just feeling him breathe in and out did more to comfort him than anything else had done over the course of a month. And it wasn’t just the physical sensations of the curse which was soothed by having Anthony in his arms. It felt, more and more, as though something inside him, some deep and twisted knot around his heart was slowly unwinding.

And yet…

“More. Okay…” There was a note of uncertainty in Anthony’s voice, subtle but present. “Right. More. We can manage that, I think. You said skin to skin was more effective, right?”

Loki’s imagination raced ahead to the conclusion Anthony was certain to reach, and he felt his entire body flood with warmth.

Anthony’s hands tugged on the edge of Loki’s shirt gently. “Why don’t we try that. See if it helps a little more.” Was it still Loki’s imagination which had him thinking that Anthony’s voice had dropped slightly, his tone gone ever so slightly breathless?

Distantly, Loki felt himself nod. Yes, it was worth a try, at least, a part of him seemed to say. A part of him which was still somehow managing to function while the rest of him was refusing to.

Anthony began pulling away from him, moving slowly. Loki knew that it was probably to keep Loki from clinging onto him if he tried to pull away too quickly, but he allowed himself the ever-so-brief fantasy that it was because _he_ was reluctant to give up the contact as well.

Still feeling detached and distant from his own body, and knowing that the curse would only remain at bay for a few moments before it swept back over him, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to a corner of the room. When he focused back on Anthony, the man hadn’t moved. He stood frozen, staring at Loki, his expression gone oddly still as he looked over the skin Loki revealed. A vague shiver of apprehension went through him, an echo of dread at what he might see – that the illusion of his nature may have slipped…

And then an entirely different kind of shiver went across his skin, stiffening his spine. There was no time to stand and worry.

“Remove your shirt, Anthony,” he said, the return of pain making it little more than a growled command.

Anthony’s eyes snapped back up to his, and Loki’s breath caught in his throat. The look which had come into Anthony’s eyes – it wasn’t a look of a man who was hating the task he had been set to do.

Warmth raced the curse across his skin, the whole room seeming to pull in closer around them.

Moving as though he were in a daze – too slow, too slow! – Anthony followed Loki’s example and pulled his shirt off over his head. It ruffled his hair, a faint flush over his cheeks made more obvious by the exposure of so much skin.

He wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, bring their skins together and chase back the curse which had already begun to return. He wanted to recapture that sensation, that impossible to describe sensation which had nothing to do with pain or discomfort, but which seemed to unlock some strange tightness nestled deep inside him… But he too felt the need to stop and stare for a moment.

He had known about the arc reactor already. He knew, and had known for some time that Anthony had _something_ embedded in his chest, something of his own creation. After some time amongst the Avengers and Anthony he had come to learn that it was a prosthetic, of sorts. It didn’t replace anything which had been lost, but rather it protected him from… something. It was one of the many details which he still didn’t know, and which he had not gone out of his way to find out, despite how curious he was about it. He didn’t know _why_ Anthony needed the reactor, or _how_ he had come to have it, what it did, exactly, or what would happen if it were ever removed… He simply knew that it was there, and that Anthony was self-conscious about it.

He hadn’t known how beautiful it would be.

A device of metal and glass, the reactor glowed a bewitching arctic blue. In his mind he had thought that it might pulse just a little, reflecting how it seemed to cage and protect his heart – but the light was steady.

Without thinking, Loki reached for it, fingertips brushing lightly over the smooth surface of the reactor. He’d expected it to be cold, but it was warm, just as warm as Anthony was. What came more as a shock, however, was what touching the reactor did to _him_.

He had done experiments with how much the effects of touch on the curse might be transferred through other mediums. How much did touch work if there was an object between them. The answer had always been that there _was_ still an effect, but it was so little that it was hardly worth the effort.

That wasn’t the case with Anthony’s reactor. Relief shot through his fingers and up his arm, just as though he had touched Anthony’s skin, and not a device spun of metal. Just as though the arc reactor were a _part_ of Anthony, and not some foreign object stuck within him.

Anthony shivered. Loki shifted his gaze up from the reactor to his eyes, and found the man staring at him with an expression he couldn’t interpret.

He ought to pull his hand away, but… “I apologize,” he murmured. “If the attention is unwelcome…”

“No.” And even though Loki hadn’t been pulling away, Anthony laid a hand over his, holding him in place. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Loki could practically taste the lie on Anthony’s lips. It obviously _did_ bother him, for whatever reason, to have the arc reactor looked at so closely. It didn’t escape his notice, for example, that by holding his hand in place, pressing it closer to him, he was effectively covering it, smothering the light and hiding it from Loki’s eyes.

But if it were hidden, then Loki was also holding the light in his hand.

He was kept from thinking about it for very long, as Anthony didn’t allow them to remain separate. The hand not keeping him own captive over the reactor brushed along Loki’s cheek, leading up into his hair as Anthony took a step closer to him. In a moment they were standing as they had been only a few minutes before, chest to chest, arms wrapped around one another and holding each other close.

It was so much. There was so much contact, so much warmth, so much _Anthony_ all around him, it was nearly overwhelming. The curse was chased away so quickly it nearly made Loki’s knees buckle, but that was almost secondary to just having Anthony in his arms, solid and real and so _warm_. Any fevered imaginings he might have had before the curse had latched on to him, no matter what sort of course they might have taken, all paled in comparison to the reality of having Anthony in his arms.

He couldn’t help the shudder which ran through him, nor the rough exhale. He thanked the Norns, however, that he managed to hold back the near sob stuck in the back of his throat. There was just _too_ much…

Keeping the sob from escaping didn’t seem to fool Anthony for an instant, however. Almost immediately his hands were moving over Loki’s body, soothing up and down his spine, through his hair. “It’s alright, Lokes,” he murmured, his words almost completely muffled as he spoke into Loki’s neck. “It’s alright. I’m right here, everything is going to be fine, okay…?”

It wasn’t, though. It all felt so good, so _right_ to be in Anthony’s arms like he was, but it wasn’t. It was barely better than what he had been doing in all the weeks prior, when he’d been stealing touches from Anthony without giving him any clue as to _why_. Too cowardly to admit that his touch was what he needed to keep from going mad, all because he might be rejected – and that rejection would be more of just his need for help. It would be a rejection of _him_.

This wasn’t any better, really. It might be by Anthony’s choice, but Loki was taking so much more than just relief from the spell. He was still taking advantage, still lying to Anthony by omission. There was no way, even if he knew, that he would give Loki everything he was trying to take.

Because Anthony didn’t love him.

He didn’t love Loki the way Loki loved him, and never would. Any contact they shared, any comfort Loki took from him, it was all destined ever to be one sided. All a lie.

It seemed that he was still as much of a liar now as he ever had been, even to himself.

Anthony, blessedly ignorant of the storm taking place inside Loki’s head and heart, continued to stroke and to soothe, until, at last, Loki began to relax. Slowly and by sections, his body unlocked, and he sunk further and further into the embrace. He felt warm, protected being held so closely… and incredibly tired.

His eyes had slipped closed some time before, and it wasn’t until Anthony spoke that he realized just how much of his weight he had been giving the mortal to bear.

“Alright, big guy. Let’s get to the bed before you pass out completely.”

Loki blinked, thoughts a heavy, confused muddle. Bed. Yes. That was what they were here for, to sleep. A chance for some relief, to get some real rest. He could feel his body growing heavier by the second, the loss of the pain giving it permission, at last, to collapse the way it had wanted to for ages.

Forcing himself to remain upright, removing much of his weight from Anthony, he nodded. “Yes, of course…” Even his tongue felt heavy, hard to move or make cooperate.

Anthony took the lead, taking Loki to the bed. Loki was grateful. He was having some great difficulty in being able to focus. He was certain when they had first come in he had been able to make out more detail in things like the patterns of the duvet, or in what was on the bedside tables… now it was all a mass of vague shapes and colors. Not that any of it mattered. Anthony was the only thing which really mattered. Anthony and his touch.

They came to the bed and somehow managed to get into it with a minimum of awkwardness, Anthony managing to also keep at least one hand on Loki the entire time. Once they were on the bed, they each curled up onto their sides, with Anthony curling up close at Loki’s back.

“Little spoon, then,” he said with a chuckle, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of Loki’s neck. One of his hands wrapped around Loki’s waist, his palm pressing at Loki’s belly. His other arm was threaded beneath him, pinned down by Loki’s body. The man shifted closer, pressing as much of himself against Loki as he could, from the chin touching Loki’s shoulder to the way his legs bent to match the way Loki’s curled slightly, to their feet, where Anthony appeared to be attempting to hook his ankles around Loki’s. He was being wrapped up completely in Anthony’s warmth, every one of the man’s limbs taking hold and drawing him in. “I’m not sure I would have guessed that,” Anthony went on, adjusting his arms, making himself comfortable at Loki’s back, settling in for sleep. “But I ain’t going to complain. Not every day I get to cuddle such a large teddy bear.”

Loki blinked at that. Anthony’s voice was growing heavy and thick as well, his own sleepiness obviously beginning to catch up with him. He couldn’t decide at first if calling him a giant teddy bear was the kind of thing he would normally say, or if the tiredness had loosened his tongue. On one hand it seemed a little intimate to say, given the current situation. On the other, it was said in a flippant sort of tone, the kind Tony liked to use with all of his joking, throw away statements which never actually meant much.

_“Because you love me.”_

Loki flinched at the memory, drawing away from it and curling in on himself. Which only had the effect of pressing him even closer to the man at his back.

When Anthony had said those words, his heart had very nearly stopped, a hundred possibilities of what it could mean racing through his head all at once. Had Anthony noticed his interest? Was he indicating interest of his own? Was he amused at the idea of Loki having any interest in him at all, or was he annoyed?

In the end it appeared to be nothing more than a flippant comment. A tease to get Loki to smile.

JARVIS lowered the lights once they were both settled, Anthony acting as a second skin across his back, arm wrapped about his middle, his breath fluttering over his shoulder. There was no blanket over them, but he doubted that either of them would need one at any point in the night, pressed close and sharing warmth as they were.

“I’m gonna apologize now if I start snoring, Lokes,” Anthony murmured, already sounding as though he were halfway asleep.

“And I will preemptively forgive you. Your snoring couldn’t possibility be worse than Thor’s.”

He chuckled, his humor vibrating through Loki’s chest. “Point. What about drool? You think you could forgive me if I happen to drool all down your back during the night?”

“Absolutely not,” he said with a small smile, an image of how Anthony might normally sleep rising in his mind. Sprawled snoring, a little trail of spittle escaping the corner of his mouth. Such an image ought not to have been as charming as it was. “For the crime of drooling on a bed partner there is neither forgiveness nor reprieve. I’m afraid our friendship is at an end should you be unable to control your saliva.

“Oh, come on, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

“Not at all. A dousing of saliva is grounds for severance of friendship.”

“It’s not like I’d be doing it _deliberately_ …”

“That just shows a lamentable lack of self-control.”

“Even when I’m _asleep?_ ”

“Yes.”

Anthony huffed a laugh, the warmth of it washing over Loki’s skin. “What if I promised to not to get any in your hair at least? Would that count for anything?”

Loki half turned his head, his tone much sharper and awake than it had been before. “You had better _not_ drool in my hair—!”

He laughed fully then. “I see, _there’s_ your highest priority. I might have known.”

Loki huffed in his turn. Moving as little as he could, he gathered his hair together into a bundle with one hand, and then swept it all to a side, tucking it securely out of the way beneath him, right in the crook of his neck. “There,” he said as he resettled. “That should make it a little more difficult for you to hit my hair if you _do_ end up drooling like a dog.”

“I’d take offence to that if I thought for even a second that you meant it.”

“Hmph.” Loki nestled down the rest of the way, getting comfortable again, and without thinking put his hand over Anthony’s, still lain over his belly. Anthony might have stiffened for just a moment, but if he did, it was just for that moment.

They lay still in the dark, breathing synchronizing as they slowed and deepened. Loki slowly adapted to feeling Anthony pressed against his back, to his tiny shifts, the feel of him breathing. The only thing he couldn’t seem to adjust to was the weight of Anthony’s arm pressing into his side, the warmth of his palm sinking into his belly. The strange intimacy of that, of all things, never seemed to dissipate.

“How are you feeling, Lokes? Better?”

He started slightly. He’d been sure Anthony had been asleep. He took a deep breath. “Yes, Stark. Much better. Thank you.”

“Any time,” he said, and Loki could hear the rueful smile he was wearing as he said it. “I mean that, too,” he added. “You don’t need to wait until life threatening curses pop up to come to me for help. In fact I would prefer it if you got to me before anything gets that extreme.”

“I know.” He gently squeezed the hand at his belly. “You’re a good friend.”

“I try to be,” he murmured, barely audible.

The quality of the air around them changed, subtly shifting. Loki blinked in the dark, wondering at the strained note in Anthony’s voice. He _was_ a good friend to Loki – far and away the one who went the most out of his way to _be_ his friend out of the Avengers, or the Revengers, for that matter. There were few who were still actively hostile to him, but Anthony was the only one who was actively _friendly_ other than Thor. They spent time together, bantered, shared stories, watched movies together, ate together…

Why would he sound as though he thought he were _failing_ to be Loki’s friend?

“You _are_ my friend, Stark. I don’t know that I would have remained on this planet so long as I have, had it not been for you. You… are very often what I look forward to the most when returning.” He paused, on the cusp of saying what he really felt, the truth when it came to Anthony and just how much he had come to rely on him. More than he had any right to rely on him.

Loki stroked his thumb over the back of Anthony’s. “Were it not for you, I believe I would have left this planet long ago. I would have travelled, I think. Gone to see those sights I never had the time or freedom to before.”

A slightly disbelieving huff tickled over the back of Loki’s neck. “Well, you sure know how to flatter a guy. Giving up the sights of the universe just to hang out in my workshop. The cosmos must not be all it’s cracked up to be, eh?” He gave squeeze with his arm, playful and lighthearted.

Perhaps it was the darkness, or being held so closely in Anthony’s arms that there seemed to be no point in barriers, or maybe it was the euphoria of no longer being in constant agony, but the words just seemed to come out of their own volition.

“The cosmos is just as grand and beautiful as you could possibly imagine. But I find your company preferable to all which the universe could offer. Why go searching for more to please me, when I have already found you?”

Anthony went very still. Behind him, Loki could practically hear the wheels spinning in Anthony’s head as he tried to parse out what Loki meant, what he meant to Loki if all of that was true.

“I’m…” His voice sounded strained again, a little too thick. “I’m glad you do come back,” he managed, with a note of uncertainty. “I’ve gotten to liking having you around the place. It wouldn’t be the same if you never came back. And not fair, really, off having space adventures without me. I’d have to come up with some sort of craft to come and find you. Or get Thor to steal one for me.”

“I would take you with me,” he said, fingers unconsciously tightening over Anthony’s. “We could go together, and you could see all manner of sights your race were not destined to see for centuries. We could discover all new worlds and peoples together, and not once ever be bored.” More deliberately now, he tightened his grip on Anthony’s hand, possessive in the face of even _imagining_ leaving his Anthony behind. “I would never leave you. Not unless you _wanted_ me to go.”

“ _Wanted_ you to…? _Christ,_ Loki.” It was Anthony’s turn to tighten his grip. But unlike before, when he tightened briefly and then released him, this time he pulled Loki back, tighter against his chest until it was hard to breathe. “If I thought I had any right whatsoever, I would have you promise me never to leave. Whether that means you staying here or taking me with when you decide that Earth is too boring and you can’t stand it anymore, I really don’t care. Just so long as you don’t _leave_.”

For a moment, Loki lost all of his breath, and it wasn’t because of the arm wrapped round his waist. He replayed what had been said over and over again, certain he had misheard, or misinterpreted, that his own wishful thinking had been more on display than anything which Anthony had actually _said_. But…

“So when you say ‘leave,’ you are more concerned with my leaving _you_ , rather than with your world as a whole.” He said it slowly, half afraid that even as the words left him, he would spot the flaw in his reasoning, and that he would only be expressing his own hopes in the asking.

There was a heavy silence. For a while it seemed as though Anthony had ceased to breathe, just as Loki had as he awaited his answer. Then, very softly,

_“Shit.”_

Anthony’s hold on him loosened, and it felt as though he were being released into the void, left to plummet with no lifeline.

“Look, Lokes, I’m sorry, okay? Just forget I said that. Well—not _all_ of it, just that last part.” Anthony gabbled slightly, his words stumbling over one another, his voice still low in the darkness. “I _am_ fond of you, and I _do_ like having you here, and I _would_ be upset if you were to leave all of a sudden. You’re one of my best friends around here and other than maybe Bruce I don’t think anyone else really understands what I’m talking about when I really get going. That would—that would suck if you up and left. Bruce would hate it too, because then he’d be getting the brunt of all of my rambling again, and the big guy like his quiet time. It’s a little hard to meditate or go Zen with work when you have some other idiot talking your ear off or insisting on loud music the whole time. I mean if _I_ could get away with not having to spend all day around me I would, but—“

“Anthony.”

He shut up immediately. Whether it was his tone which got him to clam up or just the use of his name, Loki didn’t know, but he was grateful. He needed a moment to think, to calm his heart before he could reply, and Anthony’s panicked rambling wasn’t helping either of those things. He wondered if Anthony could feel his heart going like a rabbit’s under his hand.

Before he could fully compose himself, or decide on how to address what had just happened, Anthony found his voice again.

“I’m sorry, Lokes. Really. I didn’t mean to make any of this awkward or weird. I know you probably want to run a mile right now, but I _can_ promise that I won’t act any different around you. I promise to be as normal as I’ve ever been, we’ll get the curse thing figured out, and then you can… You can put as much distance between us as you need. I’m not going to… to push for anything.”

The desire to laugh out loud, to howl at the universe which made fools of them all, battled with the need to cry, his eyes burning with unshed tears, all of the emotion roiling inside him searching for _some_ way out. “Anthony…”

He couldn’t bear it. He needed to see him, to look in his eyes. Hating that he had to move away for even an instant, resenting the very air which came between them, Loki shifted and turned, rolling so they were no longer back to back, but facing one another in the darkness.

Except it wasn’t really dark. The light of Anthony’s reactor, no longer muffled by their bodies illuminated both of them. Anthony’s face, caught in the gently spectral glow of the arc, was a study of emotions – all ones which Loki wished to wipe clean of him. Regret, guilt, worry, a tinge of resignation… None of it belonged on his face. Not if Loki could help it, and not because of _him_.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell him that he was a fool, that they were _both_ fools. That when he said he would rather stay bound to this one world if it meant he could spend his days in Anthony’s company, he’d _meant it_. That he had meant so much more, that he _wanted_ so much more, if only he could believe what he was hearing…

But all of his words were stolen, tongue turned to lead.

 _“Anthony…”_ He whispered the name on a breath, and felt the man shiver. He shivered again when Loki brought up a hand and tentatively brushed his fingers over his cheek.

Perhaps there was no need for words. They had been sharing words freely for so long, and yet despite that, they hadn’t managed to communicate anything of value.

Anthony’s eyes had drifted nearly closed at Loki’s touch, but his expression remained troubled, even so. When Loki began to shift closer to him, his eyes came open again, brows drawing together. Then his eyes widened as Loki threaded his legs with his, tangling them together, their bellies coming together as he shifted forward. Loki ran his fingers through Anthony’s short brown hair, soothing him the same way he had soothed Loki not so long ago.

For a moment, Loki simply looked at him, taking him in bit by bit. Anthony. _His_ Anthony, perhaps…

When he breathed, it was Anthony he took in. Anthony’s breath in his lungs.

Anthony’s warmth wrapped all around him.

The light of Anthony’s heart illuminating them both.

“Anthony…”

The touch of Anthony’s lips against his was enough to steal his breath and make his stomach lurch. Was it him who closed the final inch between them, or Anthony, or both…? It didn’t matter. It was perhaps the most hesitant of kisses which Loki have ever experienced, barely more than a brush of lips, a suggestion of pressure and the gentlest rasp of stubble where their chins bumped one another.

A moment later and there was a hand at Loki’s shoulder, holding him tight, holding on him as though he were afraid that if he let go, Loki really _would_ disappear in an instant. However bruising his grip on Loki’s shoulder, though, his mouth remained gentle.

They pulled away again without the kiss deepening. Despite that, Loki still felt as though he were out of air, and given how ragged a breath Anthony had to draw, he was in much the same state. 

“Loki…” Wonder, now. His voice was filled with wonder, and Loki’s heart felt as though it were trying to break through his ribcage. “What was…”

“Madness.” He grinned. “Pure and utter madness. But I think it suits us.”

The laugh Anthony gave was light, incredulous. The look on his face was also incredulous, as though he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. “Yeah, I guess it does. But—I mean…” A shadow of lingering doubt flickered over his face. “Really?”

Loki nodded, marveling at how Anthony allowed him to touch his face, brushing his fingers along his cheekbone and up into his hair. “Yes,” he said, still lost in wonder. Perhaps he really had gone mad, the last of his sanity abandoning him at last, and leaving him with this final, wonderful dream of what never could have been.

“Even before the curse,” he murmured, still stroking Anthony’s face, his hair. “I have been plagued with an ache, which nothing but your nearness could cure. Before this curse, your presence was a balm to me, and I was happiest when I could find some excuse to be near you.”

“That is probably one of the sappiest things I have ever heard,” Anthony said with a chuckle, but the gleam in his eye said that he was delighted with everything which was happening. “Well, at least now we know that you don’t _need_ an excuse. You can come and be ‘in my company’ any time you please.” He tugged Loki closer, using his legs as well as the arm draped over his shoulder.

Anthony brought their foreheads together, and Loki allowed his eyes to slip closed, just breathing.

Maybe he really had gone mad, and all of this was just a fantasy put together by his mind finally coming completely unhinged. If it was, then he would take it. There were much, much worse scenarios his broken mind might have conjured up as it pulled itself apart.

But, somehow, it seemed this was reality. Against any and all expectations, it was real, and Anthony was there, with him.

When Anthony tilted forward into another, firmer kiss, a thrill shivered across his skin. Unlike the sensations which had been plaguing him for weeks, this was one which he had no desire whatsoever to be rid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up sometime tomorrow! 💕
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> You can find me on  
> Tumblr: [@ehtarwrites](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@ehtarwrites](https://twitter.com/ehtarwrites)  
> Discord: @ehtarwrites#4962 
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things, hmu! ♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end! Thank you to everyone for reading and for the lovely comments, I hope you enjoy the finale! 💕

When Loki awoke the next morning, it was to warmth, contentment and confusion.

It took a few moments for him to remember anything which had happened the day before – possibly over the last several days. The lack of sleep made recollecting anything a matter of luck more than anything else. There were several memories on waking which Loki would have very firmly cast as being nothing more than dream… had it not been for the limbs tangled up with his own. If it hadn’t been for Anthony’s face, so near to his, still sleeping peacefully, he might never have believed what happened.

Madness…

Loki stared at Anthony, trying to understand or _believe_ what had happened the day before. The battle, the accidental revelation, the awkward explanation of the curse, Anthony’s unexpected offer to help him… and the night which followed it.

It wasn’t the first time Loki had ever seen Anthony while he was sleeping. He’d walked into his workshop during all-nighters to find him slumped over his table, dead to the world until his morning coffee woke him up. And there had been that time when they had fallen asleep on the couch together, and Loki had gotten the opportunity to get an up and close view of his face while sleeping.

Neither of those instances had been like this. Neither had been so close, or had felt as though he had any _right_ to look as much as he wanted.

_“Just so long as you don’t leave.”_

That had been before everything between them had shifted.

Now, he just marveled that he _could_ stare all he wanted to, and felt no residual guilt for the liberty.

There was going to have to be a long talk later. They were going to have to actually sit down and discuss what had changed, how they were going to deal with it – if there even _needed_ to be that much in the way of a change, other than in the delightful, obvious change of being more than they had been before.

But a talk would be coming soon.

He found that he really didn’t mind the idea of a nice, long talk with Anthony.

“Are you going to stare all morning, or am I going to get a good morning kiss?”

A smile broke out over Anthony’s face at the same time his eyes opened, and Loki couldn’t help but think that it truly was morning, because now there was a dawn.

He returned the grin, his heart lighter than it had been in… too long. “How long have you been awake?”

“If I said ‘long enough,’ would I get smacked?”

“Possibly. And do you really want to take that kind of risk this early in the morning?”

“Not really.” With limbs still tangled around his, he stretched, his body rolling luxuriantly – and _suggestively_ , which Loki was certain was no accident. When he was finished their faces were even closer, practically touching. He gave a grin, his eyes twinkling at Loki mischievously. “Good morning, Gorgeous. Sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you,” he said, returning the smile. “And may I assume you also had a restful night? I don’t think I have ever seen you look so bright eyed without that caustic brew of yours to assist you in the process.”

Anthony shifted a little, apparently getting comfortable, and readjusting his grip on Loki. “Mm. Mm-hmm. I’d say so. One of the most restful I’ve had in a long time. All thanks to this marvelous sleep aid I’ve found.”

“Oh yes?” He raised a brow at the mortal. “Effective even for you?”

“Definitely. A nice deep sleep, no nightmares, and I feel completely refreshed on waking. No drowsiness hangovers for me.”

He smirked, holding back a laugh, choosing instead to nudge Anthony’s nose with his own. “Well, with such a ringing endorsement, you ought to consider signing on to be the spokesperson for this miracle product. I’m sure whoever makes it would gladly give up body parts to have the one and only Anthony Stark as the face of their goods.”

Anthony snorted softly, his grip on Loki tightening just a little bit. “No way. This sleep aid is all mine, and they can _fight_ me for it.”

Loki’s heart sped at the declaration, and then again when Anthony claimed his mouth in the morning kiss he’d been demanding earlier.

It felt as though they had kissed for hours the night before, before they had each succumbed and fallen asleep. Not that either of them had complained, nor was Loki likely to any time soon – nor was Anthony, it would seem. Kissing was all they had done before falling asleep in each other’s arms. They had both been too tired for anything more – Loki especially. But they hadn’t needed anything more than that. The discovery that they each meant as much to the other as… well. That by itself was so new on its own.

When Anthony pulled back he was wearing an unbearably sappy smile. Had the circumstances been different, Loki would have felt perfectly justified in mocking him into the dust. With how things actually were, however… his heart give a sweet lurch to know that _he_ was the reason there was such a soft, loving smile on Anthony’s face.

“Mm…” A thumb rough with callouses swept over his cheek as Anthony looked into his eyes. “As much as I would love to spend the entire day wrapped up in you and never move, there are one or two rather pressing issues which will require attention very soon.”

“Yes,” he said, repressing a sigh. “The little matter of an impossible curse to remove.”

“Well, yes,” he said. “But I was thinking more along the lines of using the little boy’s room. I don’t know about you, but it’s getting close to half a day since the last time I got to visit.”

He didn’t bother to hold back his laughter then, chuckling lightly in Anthony’s face. It was true, he was beginning to feel the pressure of it himself. It was just so… _normal_. “Of course. We mustn’t torture your poor bladder more than we absolutely need to.”

“Damn right about that,” he said, his shifting distinctly less comfortable, now. He paused and gave Loki a look. “What about you?”

“A visit to the facilities _would_ be appreciated, yes.”

“No, I mean—“ A frown came to his face, worry writ plainly. “I mean we’re probably going to want to separate for this. Are you going to be alright for that?”

Ah, yes. “I think so. The effects of prolonged contact linger for a time, the longer and closer the contact translating to a longer effect. Considering…” he looked pointedly between them, where there was very little space and very little clothing left. “I think we might reasonably depend on the effects lasting the few minutes it will take for us to each relieve ourselves.”

“I’ll take your judgement on that,” Anthony said, still sounding a little doubtful. “But if you’re wrong, I want you to know that I won’t blame you if you need to break in for emergency hugs mid-pee.”

He gave Anthony a shove. Anthony just laughed, and went about disentangling their limbs.

Coming apart from one another was less difficult than Loki thought it would be. Despite what he said to Anthony, he was wary of the return of pain the moment they released one another. He did his best to not allow that fear to show through, but he either failed or Anthony’s own worry would not be assuaged. He lingered over Loki, releasing him slowly, as though convinced that he would break the instant all contact was lost. It was sweet, if a little irritating. He nearly had to shove the man away in earnest to get him to move.

Being apart from Anthony felt strange. It wasn’t cold in Anthony’s rooms, but he shivered, skin terribly exposed and defenseless, raw to the air without Anthony there to act as a barrier. It was ridiculous, to feel so dependent on someone – especially when he had only come to depend on him for a single night free from pain.

That single night was enough, it would seem, to remind him of what pain free could feel like, and to render him completely unwilling to bear that pain again.

By the time Anthony emerged, the pain had still not reasserted itself. Not even the very beginnings of the pain, which had originally felt as a light tickle of insects across his skin, hadn’t made a reappearance. It was encouraging, and he didn’t prolong the small touches from Anthony as they traded places.

He finished his own business in the washroom, making a point of lingering slightly over washing, pushing the amount of time he remained apart from Anthony just a little more, testing the limits of what he could stand, how long it might take for the curse to begin its return.

It never did. A fact which he had to reassure Anthony of repeatedly when he finally exited the washroom, and the man was on him at once.

“Anthony, I’m _fine_ ,” he said as he batted at the man – though he didn’t actually push him away. “There’s not even a _hint_ of the pain returning.”

The worry in Anthony’s face was enough to make Loki’s heart ache. “Yes, well, it _wouldn’t_ show any signs of returning – until it did. And I don’t want to run the risk of you getting back to the same state you were in yesterday. That was downright frightening, Lokes. I don’t ever want to see you like that again.”

“You won’t,” he reassured, cupping the man’s face in his hands. “I promise you that if I feel the beginnings of the curse taking hold, I will come straight to you.”

The worry remained, but Anthony managed to crack a smile. “Well, that’s good. Though I hope you have more to run to me for than just acting as your curse cure.”

“I believe that is called ‘fishing for compliments,’” he smiled. “But yes, I can think of several good reasons to come back to you. The first being doing everything in my power to convince you that I _do_ have something worth coming back to over and over again.”

“Well, far be it from me to try and _keep_ you from such a noble goal,” he murmured, closing his eyes as Loki leaned in for another kiss.

It was how their morning progressed, all through getting ready for the day, through breakfast, through discussions of what they would and should attempt in understanding and solving the curse. Rarely were they not in contact with one another, and any time when they weren’t touching was immediately made up for.

Once given permission to do so, they couldn’t seem to stop themselves from keeping in contact.

Days went by, and somehow they managed to work and function while staying in contact with one another with minimal trouble. The team, on seeing them and their new arrangement, were all a little… surprised. Save for Thor, of course. But even in that quarter there was no small amount of startled curiosity. To deal with the majority of the questions no doubt waiting for the opportunity to be asked, Anthony explained that there was some sort of magical mishap which made it impossible to separate them without dire consequences to one or both of them. It wasn’t technically a lie, and Loki was rather proud of Anthony for his glibness. It was obvious that there were still plenty of questions which they wanted to ask, but they kept those questions to themselves for the time being.

It was just as well that they were left to their own devices, because it soon became apparent that even combined they made little more progress than Loki had been making on his own.

There was one major advantage they had over Loki working solo, and that was that Loki was no longer in constant pain. For that, Loki thanked whatever powers there were in the Universe. He’d been afraid of the effectiveness of Anthony’s touch fading with time, just as everyone else’s had done. But it never did.

It was tempting to consider the possibility that they could just continue on the way they were: attached at the hip. It seemed to be the only thing which was effective, and no other more permanent solution was presenting itself. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, to always be near Anthony. Doubtless there would be arguments and disagreements in the future, times when they were less amenable to one another than they were now, but would it be so awful to have to spend so much time with each other?

But it wouldn’t be fair on Anthony to leave things the way they were. He said he never wanted Loki to leave, but that was very different than feeling like he _couldn’t_ leave. Unless they found a permanent solution to the curse, that was what their relationship would turn into – an obligation. Anthony would feel a responsibility to keep Loki from being in pain. His touch was the only one which worked, and that was just the way he thought of things. He might not mind it for the time being, but he would come to resent it. He would come to resent _Loki._

He didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want to watch the quiet affection in his eyes turn to bitterness. It would kill a part of him more certainly than the curse.

Now that his evenings were made up of settling in to bed together, of nuzzling and exploring, of kisses and shared breath, he was dangerously protective over them. He’d never dared to think that he might actually _have_ something like this to himself. That he _did_ , against all the odds… he wasn’t going to risk losing it.

He would keep Anthony for as long as he possibly could, and the universe would have to drag them apart before he gave him up.

Unfortunately, the universe was very good at getting what _it_ wanted, the desires of the people residing within be damned.

Calls to assemble had this wonderful way of coming at the least convenient times. Normally there were lulls between attacks of the type which would require the intervention of the Avengers. Not that the bad guys were considerate enough to schedule themselves that way, but one could at least reasonably assume a _little_ bit of time between major threats to the planet.

So of course, when they could really use that extra time, the baddies decided to step up their time lines and get them all suited up only days after the last attack.

Which led to the first real problem immediately.

“I’ve been perfectly fine this entire time, Anthony. There’s no reason to suppose that not being in contact with one another will _immediately_ result in the return of the kind of pain I had been experiencing before.”

Anthony narrowed his eyes at Loki, holding on to one of his hands even as his suit was clicking into place around him. “I’d say that there is _plenty_ of reason to at least suspect that as a possibility. Plus the whole thing where we have no idea how long this is going to _take_ , how long we’re going to stay separated, or if we’re going to even be able to come back together right after all the fighting is done—“

Loki leaned in, stopping his mouth with a kiss, the thrill of it not having lessened in the slightest since their very first.

“We stay close to one another,” he said when he pulled back. “We watch one another’s back. And we put down this threat quickly, yes?”

“Yes,” Anthony agreed, his face softened, but worry still lingering in his eyes. “And don’t get yourself kidnapped.”

“The same goes double for you.”

They went into battle, apart from one another for the first time in days. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t feel strange, or that he wasn’t also a little worried at what the separation might do. There was a risk, and they had no real idea of the sort of parameters they were working with. They had both been too careful in remaining in contact that they had failed to test how long they _could_ remain separated before Loki began to feel the effects. It hadn’t seemed like much of a priority.

Now it felt like a terrible oversight.

They fought, remaining close and within sight as much as possible, working in tandem better than they ever had before. Loki chose to believe that it was because of the time they had been spending together, that it had given them an even better awareness of one another, and that translated to better synchronicity even in battle.

Despite that, though, there was no way to predict or control every part of a battle. As the fighting went on, they were pulled further and further away from each other. It didn’t seem to matter much how hard they tried to stay close, the tide of the battle swept them apart. Worse, it turned out to _not_ be a short battle the way they had hoped it would be.

Loki kept eyes on Anthony for as long as he was able, keeping track of his location and that he was safe until he could no longer make out the red armor. He wasn’t too worried about him – they were being a little overwhelmed, but it was nothing which either of them couldn’t handle.

The danger came from the separation itself, and from whatever recklessness Anthony might feel compelled to commit because he could no longer see Loki. Anthony was given to thoughtlessness when he was worried.

Save for that anxiety of his own, however, Loki felt just fine. Better than fine. He felt more awake and alive than he had since the moment he had been hit with the curse. It felt as though invisible bonds had been removed from him, only noticeable now in their absence, and he was able to move, to _breathe_ at last!

Loki twirled and twisted, brandishing both scepter and magic. It felt so good to truly unleash his powers, to watch the enemies ranged around him fall away. He grinned fiercely, and allowed himself for the first time in weeks to feel without restraint.

When the last of the enemies were down, Loki stood, tired but not exhausted, not defeated – and _still_ with no sign of the curse returning.

Loki looked down at his hands, turning them and flexing his fingers experimentally. There was no hint of creeping insects or pain. He rubbed at his fingertips carefully, and then firmly, but there was nothing.

When the curse had first begun presenting itself, it had begun in his extremities, and worked its way further and further to his core. Any expenditure of either energy or magic had acted as a kind of lowering of his guards, allowing the curse a firmer hold over him.

Now though, standing amid the bodies of enemies bested with both strength and with magic, and he felt no sign of the curse returning.

“Loki!”

He looked up to see the red of the Iron Man suit streaking towards him, coming at such speed that he was tempted to glance back and check if there were some overlooked enemy coming up on him. But there was nothing. It wasn’t some outside enemy Anthony was racing to face. It was an internal one.

He landed hard, too desperate to reach Loki as quickly as possible to bother with things like coming in slowly. The faceplate and helmet folded away as he ran to close the last of the distance between them. “Lokes! Are you alright? That was so much longer—“

He stopped abruptly when Loki held up a hand. “Wait, Anthony. There’s…” He focused on his outstretched hand. “There’s something new,” he finished, wonderingly.

Anthony frowned, his suit continuing to fold away from him so he could step free of it, so that he was more exposed and better able to touch and drive back the curse. “’New’? What does that mean?”

He grinned at Anthony, knowing even without the man’s reaction to him that the expression must look a little bit manic. “It means… I _think_ it’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes! The curse, Anthony. I think the curse is gone!”

Anthony’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open slightly before he found his voice. “Wh—how? Are you sure? Did one of these guys hit you with a counter spell or something?”

Loki shook his head, still wondering himself what could have happened, but unable to do much more than just marvel at the fact that he could move without pain, that there was no sign it would come back…

Anthony frowned. “Well… what could it be then? Did it just… wear off?”

Loki laughed, and kept laughing, unable to help himself. “I don’t know,” he said when he could speak through his mirth. “I don’t know what this curse was, how it worked or what could have driven it back, but…”

He stepped close to Anthony, gathering the man up in his arms, tossing aside his scepter as he did so. Anthony gave a startled sound, but didn’t object, not even when he was lifted until only his toes remained on the ground. Their faces were close together, and Loki took the opportunity to brush their noses together, not caring in the least who might see them, team or bystander.

“I don’t think the spell simply wore out,” he murmured, breathing in Anthony’s scent greedily. “I think perhaps _we_ broke it, without realizing it.”

“How?” Anthony sounded breathless for a man who wasn’t being squeezed.

“The nature of the spell. All we have ever known of it was that it demanded touch. That distance made it flare to life, and that to come together soothed it.”

“Yes…?”

Loki held him closer, bringing his lips closer to Anthony’s ear. “Intimacy. I think perhaps… in reaching a level of intimacy even beyond the physical, the spell was broken – or satisfied. Either way…”

Anthony shivered in his arms, and Loki held him tighter than before. When he pushed at Loki’s shoulders, he relented, allowing himself to be pressed back until Anthony could look him in the eyes. “Loki. Are you sure it’s over?”

He wasn’t. He couldn’t be, not logically. But in himself, in how free and _right_ he felt, he _was_ certain. There would be tests to be beyond doubt, but they would only be confirming what Loki _knew_.

“I’m sure the _curse_ is over,” he said, tugging Anthony closer to him. “But as for the rest which has come of it…?”

Anthony melted into the kiss, accepting both Loki’s words and his touch.

His touch, which no longer needed any excuse, and which they both leaned into happily, greedily, taking in as much of each other as they could manage, without the threat of a curse hanging over them.

Touch and intimacy fueled by nothing more than love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on  
> Tumblr: [@ehtarwrites](http://ehtarwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@ehtarwrites](https://twitter.com/ehtarwrites)  
> Discord: @ehtarwrites#4962 
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi or chat about nerdy things, hmu! ♥


End file.
